


If You Feel It, Could You Let Me Know?

by Ageofloneliness



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Drama and Romance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Billy Butcher and Original Character pairing, Eventual Romance, F/M, Hughie has a sister, Mentions of Rape, Murder, Original Character Insert, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Superpowers, Violence, badly written action scenes, follows episodes, lots of swearing, possible sexual content, supes, the boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24713011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ageofloneliness/pseuds/Ageofloneliness
Summary: Her lip is bleeding; she can taste the blood. Fucking motherfucker. “Look whose finally awake.” Comes the gruff voice. She can feel his eyes on her and looks up. He’s smirking, as if proud that he’s got her shackled. Fucking motherfucker.“How’d you sleep?”“Fuck you” she quips, spitting at his boots. His smirk curls into a smug grin as he leans in close. “Fuck you too, sunshine.” He remarks, letting out a deep chuckle.
Relationships: Billy Butcher/Original Female Character(s), Hughie Campbell & Original Character(s)
Comments: 103
Kudos: 135





	1. The Name of the Game

**Author's Note:**

> Been watching The Boys lately in anticipation for season 2. Woo! So I wrote this, because, why not?

1.

She takes the stairs two at a time and when she reaches the top of the stairwell, she dances down the hallway to Barns Courtney’s: Kicks, as it blasts through her headphones. Her hips swing in motion to the beat before she comes to a stop at apartment 426. This was the one. 

Swiftly, she retrieves her phone from her pocket and pauses the music, removing the earbuds and tucking the device away. She knocks on the door, humming while she waits. It only takes a moment for the door to open. 

He’s tall and lean, with definition and broad shoulders and a mop of messy blond hair that looked to be about one week past a needed trim. His brows furrow, a confused look contorting his handsome face before that changes to a smirk after he looks her over, his eyes clouding with desire. “Can I help you?”

“Gabriel, right?” she asks, a flirtatious tone to her voice. She even bites her lip and lowers the zipper of her sweater, exposing her full round breasts to him. She sees his eyes drift down. He smiles widely, licking his lips. “Yeah, that’s me.” 

“Great.” She smiles and swings out her fist, striking him straight in the nose. He stumbles back into the apartment with a pained grunt and she follows him inside. “What the fuck?!” he groans, his hands shooting up to his burning aching nose. 

Her eyes glance around, taking in her surroundings. The apartment is big a big square room with white walls to divide the area, and large windows that allowed for an amazing view of the city. There is a kitchen to the right with stainless steel bench tops and sleek wooden cabinets with a fridge and stove, to the left was an entertainment area which contained a leather couch and a flat screen television. In the middle rested a pine wood coffee table. “Wow. Nice place you got here” she says, turning her head to look at him.  
“Fuck you! You bitch! I think you broke my fucking nose!” He lowers his hands, seeing them covered in blood. She smirks. “Ooh, yeah, it’s broken alright. And that’s not all I’m going to break.” 

He blinks at that and looks up at her. sniffling. “What?” 

“You heard me” she says, waving two fingers in a gesture. He jumps when the door behind her swings shut and backs away in fear when she pulls out a large bowie knife from inside her sweater. 

“Hey—whoa! Wait a minute, wait!” he exclaims, “L—let’s talk about this.” When she says nothing he continues, his hands outstretched in front of him. “Look, I—I don’t know who you are. Your hood is up, I haven’t seen your face. If you just leave, I won’t call the cops.” 

Her red lips curl into a grin. “You’re not scared of a little knife, are you?” She takes a step forward and he takes two steps back. “Jesus! You’re fucking crazy!” 

She giggles and it’s hearty and whimsical and he finds it fucking terrifying. “We’re all a little crazy.” She points a finger at him, and the knife goes flying, stopping just an inch in front of his eyes. He shouts and falls back to the hardwood floor, whimpering. “Oh, Jesus! Please! Don’t! Don’t hurt me!” 

The knife returns to her and hovers by her head. “Oh, I’m going to do so much more than hurt you.” She closes the distance between them and kneels to be at his level. “I’m going to kill you.” Her voice is so calm, and her facial expression is so genuine, it sends shivers down his spine. She winks at him and he feels a powerful unseen force push him back, sending him sliding across the room until he slams into the wall. He groans in pain, his hand shooting to his back. 

While he’s down, she retrieves her phone from her pocket and sets the music to play on speaker. Kicks, resumes playing. “I love this song” she sighs as she walks into the living room, setting the phone down on the coffee table. She closes her eyes and shakes her hips to the hard rock as she lets the music flow through her, singing along to the chorus. “Well I get my kicks! Take the money! I’ll get my fix! Well I get my kicks! Oh yeah! Well I get my kicks! Now and forever, I get my fix! Well I get my kicks! Oh yeah!” 

Gabriel watched her, his body shaking and eyes wide in fear. Who the fuck was this crazy bitch? Why the fuck was she here to kill him? What the fuck did he ever do to her? He shakes his head. Who the fuck cares about that! Now was the time to get out! Get out while she’s distracted! 

Slowly and quite painfully, he stands to his feet, using the wall for support. She doesn’t seem to notice him, especially when the hard guitar riff starts, and she begins to dip and shakes her hips more fervently. 

He takes slow silent steps along the wall, his eyes never leaving her dancing form. When he reaches the hallway, he hurries to the closet where he knows there is a metal bat because he remembers he put it there a few months ago. He throws the door open, his breath heavy and hands shaking, eyes darting around the small space in search. He spots the bat on the top shelf and reaches for it, grabbing it and swinging it in practice before he makes his way back toward the living room where the fucking psychotic bitch is still dancing. 

He silently creeps up on her, lifting the bat up high, ready to swing when she suddenly turns around and he’s thrown back forcefully against the living room wall.  
He coughs and drops the bat, groaning. She clicks her tongue, waving her pointer finger at him. “Tsk, tsk.” The floating knife flies and pierces his shoulder, embedding deeply into him. He screams in anguish from the pain, tears brimming his eyes. The music stops abruptly, and he whimpers when he sees her approach. “Wait, please! I—I have money! Please! I’ll give you however much you want! Just please, don’t kill me!” 

She stands before him, smiling almost wickedly. “Come on now, Gabe. We both know mommy and daddy pay for this beautiful apartment.” He screams again when she pulls the knife out, groaning when he drops to the floor. He lays there for a few moments before he moves to sit up with a cough. “Why…” Why are you doing this?” He meets her eyes, seeing something change in them. There’s something dark. Something detrimental. 

He grunts when she grabs him by the lapels of his blue shirt, lifting him up effortlessly as if he weighed nothing. She brings him close. “Because… It’s what Jane wants.” She knows he recognizes the name because his eyes widen. He gasps softly and shakes his head. “No… wait, wait, no! That—that was a mistake!” 

“Jane says differently” she declares before tossing him across the room. He crashes into his large flat screen television and falls to the floor. “You know something, Gabe,” she sighs as she reaches into the pocket of her denim shorts, pulling out and unfolding a picture of a young woman with long brunette hair. “You brought this on yourself.” She stands over him and kneels, presenting the picture to him, her voice dropping to a low growl. “No means no, motherfucker.” 

She balls her hand into a fist and brings it down on his face over and over and over. He cries out in pain, blood spilling from his nose, his mouth, and even the gash on his forehead. “Please! Just stop!” 

“That’s exactly what Jane said!” She stands and kicks his stomach. He wheezes and whimpers. “She begged you to stop, Gabe!” After another kick she picks him up again and throws him into another wall. “Fucker! You think just because you’re a man that you can do whatever you want! You think just because you come from a rich family and live a privileged life you can get away with anything!” She gestures again, with her hand this time, and he rises from the floor to hover in midair. 

“Please…” Gabriel pants, his voice raspy and his breathing shallow. “I’m—I’m sorry…” He coughs and she laughs, throwing her arms out in a pose. “Oh! You’re sorry? Well I guess that fixes everything! Makes it all better! In fact, let’s put it to the test!” She takes the knife in her hand and stabs him in the stomach but not deeply enough to damage any organs. He screams in pain.

“I’m sorry.” she says, tilting her head. “Did that fix anything? Did that make it all better?” She pulls up his shirt and gasps considerably. “Oh, but what’s this? I’m sorry didn’t seem to do anything. You’re still stabbed and you’re still bleeding. Huh. Well would you look at that.” 

“Please…” 

“Ugh, enough with the pleading.” She groans in annoyance and flicks her wrist, making a closing motion with her hand. Gabriel gasps as his throat constricts, eyes bulging. She looks at him, her hands slipping into the pockets of her sweater. “Why’d you do it Gabe? Hmm? Why didn’t you stop when she begged you to?” 

His voice comes out in a strained choke. She turns her head, cupping her ear with her hand, “Sorry? what was that,” then snorts and laughs. “Oh, right.” She gestures with her finger and Gabriel inhales deeply, coughing. She waits for him to catch his breath before pressing on. “You were saying?” 

His eyes narrow in a heated glare. “I didn’t do anything.” He swallows, his throat burning. “She wanted it… it’s not my fault if she says different.” 

Her eyes blacken and she chuckles, it sounds dark and irate. “Oh of course it wasn’t your fault. Nothing ever is for guys like you. Women dress up in short skirts and tight outfits, they’re all asking for it. They all want it. It wasn’t your fault you were tempted. I mean, hey, you were both at that party; drinking, dancing, having a good time. And with her rubbing against you… teasing you…” She brings him close again and stares into his eyes, her voice low and grave. “You just couldn’t resist.” 

“Fuck you!” he spits out, grunting when he’s punched across the face and thrown into the wall. But he doesn’t fall. She keeps him there, pinned up against it. He coughs, blood spilling from his mouth, and gasps when the knife presses to his throat. “Okay…” he whimpers, “Fine… yes, I did it…” He takes a breath and continues, “But that doesn’t mean I deserve to die. Just turn me in. Let the cops arrest me. I’ll do the time, I don’t care. Just don’t kill me!” 

She hums, beckoning the knife back into her hand with her finger. He hisses from a sharp nick at his skin. “Well… I guess I could do that, but where’s the fun in that?”  
Gabriel releases an angry scream. “Oh, you fucking psychotic bitch! Just le me go! I’ll do whatever you want! I’ll confess to everything! I’ll serve my time, I swear! Please!” He sniffles as tears stream down his face. “Please! Just let me go!” His voice carries anguish. 

She looks at him in awe, surprised by his sudden outburst and applauds him. “Bravo, Gabe, bravo. That almost came off as sincere. But…” She sends the knife into his abdomen again with a flick of her finger and he yells. “You’re not going to get off so easy.” She stands in front of him, leaning in close as if she were about to spill a secret. “You see, I know about the others.” Gabriel pales and swallows thickly, hanging his head in defeat and she smiles. “Oh yes. Jane wasn’t the only one.” 

She moves back, taking a few steps when Gabriel speaks softly. “There were five of them… only one was underage, but I swear I didn’t know she was. She told me she was nineteen.” He lifts his head to look at her, meeting her eyes. “My parents paid them all off. And I never heard or thought about them again. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?” 

Silence fills the room for a few seconds before she says, “You got her pregnant. Jane.” He looks stunned, his mouth dropping open and he shakes his head. “No. No way. No.”

“She’s three months along. She has no one to support her. No one to help her. She had to quit school to work two jobs.” 

“My parents paid her off!” Gabriel exclaims. 

“Ten thousand dollars is hardly a payoff!” 

He sighs deeply, his head dropping once more. “What do you want me to say? How is killing me going to make things better?” 

She shrugs. “Maybe your death will give her closure. I don’t know. I’m just doing my job.” 

A look of disbelief crosses his features. “Your job? This is just a job for you?” He scoffs. “Jesus Christ, are you saying you’re just a hired gun? Do you even know her?” 

“Not personally, no” she replies. 

He scoffs again and shakes his head. “You’re certifiable! You’re fucking crazy! How do you even know what she told you is the truth?!” He looks at her for a long while, resentment reflecting in his eyes, and then as if working out a puzzle in his mind, he nods and laughs dryly. “Oh wow. Who did it to you? Hmm? Was it your daddy? Your uncle? Your brother, maybe?” He can see pain flash in her eyes for a brief second before its gone. “I bet it was your daddy. Yeah, you’re a daddy’s girl, aren’t you?” 

She stares at him, her lips curling up in a smile. “Hm. You know what I really hate?” 

His face drops at her unexpected question and then he screams as the knife pierces his uninjured shoulder when he doesn’t reply. “I asked you a question” she says. The knife goes in deeper and he screams louder. “Ah! What?! What do you hate?” 

She again twists her hand in a curling motion and Gabriel chokes as his throat tightens. “Men like you. Men who take no responsibility for their actions. Men who throw money at their problems to make them go away. Everything gets handed to you and yet, you still think the world owes you something! You fucking piece of shit! You fucking make me sick! You’re nothing but fucking scum!” 

“Sounds like someone’s got their knickers in a bunch.” A gruff accented voice cuts through the air. She startles and her hold on Gabriel’s throat loosens just enough for him to scream. “Help! Help me! Kill this fucking crazy bitch!” His cries are suddenly cut short when she balls her hand in a fist, his throat tightening. 

She then spins around to see a man in a leather coat standing behind her, a handgun in his hands aimed directly at her. She sees the door wide open behind him. Huh. Quiet motherfucker. “Couldn’t help but overhear your little speech there. If you ask me, sunshine, you fucking supes are the real scum.” His British accent is thick. 

Her eyes narrow as she takes in his appearance. He’s got scars on his rugged face, a head of scruffy dark thick hair, and possibly one of the thickest unruliest beards she’s ever seen. He sneers at her, his eyes dark. He looks ominous and dangerous and fucking reckless. 

“Who the fuck are you?” she demands, her eyes traveling over his form. He gives a toothy smirk. “Me?” he hums, “Why, I’m the bloke that spanks you cunts when you get out of line. And you’ve been awful naughty.” He puts emphasis on the word naughty, as if telling that he knew more than he led on. “Have I really?” she remarks, and he gives a deep rumble of a chuckle in response. It’s as if he’s amused. 

Their eyes meet and the two stare each other down for several moments. Neither one moves and the tension builds and rises, deep and intense, until Gabriel’s pained whimpers cut through. Truth be told, she had forgotten he was even there. “Best you let the lad go” the man says. 

“Fuck no” she replies, twisting her hand. Gabriel’s neck snaps and his limp body plunges to the floor with a heavy thud. The large, smoldering man standing before her sighs and shakes his head. “Now, why’d you have to go and do that.” 

She smirks and shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly, tucking her hands in her pockets. “Business.”  
He chuckles again, another deep rumble. “That makes two of us.” 

“Guess that means you’re here to kill me.” 

He has a smug smirk on his face. “Right you are, sunshine.” 

She hums, the large knife rising from the body and hovering by hear head. Her defiant stance makes it clear she’s up for the challenge. “You can certainly try, uh… um…. what the fuck did you say your name was?” 

“Butcher.” 

“Butcher” she repeats, giving a curt nod. The knife sails right at him. Butcher ducks in time to avoid being impaled by the blade and fires off two bullets.  
She’s quick to deflect the bullets with a gesture of her hand. He fires four more shots and rushes her while she’s distracted, tackling her. She grunts from the impact, her head hitting the floor hard enough to disorient her for a few seconds giving Butcher plenty of time to wrap his large calloused hand around her throat to hold her steady as he delivers three hard punches to her face. Each blow is powerful and stuns her until she brings her head forward with full force in a headbutt, her forehead colliding with his nose. He groans loudly, the blow knocking him back in a stumble. And now that she’s free from his assault, she sits up and swings her arm out. 

Butcher feels a powerful unseen force push against him and throw him into the nearest wall. He grunts when he crashes and plummets to the floor. Fuck. He shakes his head to clear it and his ears pick up the sounds of shuffling. He turns his head to see the girl getting up and lifts his gun, sighing when he finds it’s no longer in his hands. “Fucking hell…” 

His eyes do a quick scan of the area, spotting a metal bat within arm’s reach. “Oh hello, lookie here…” He grabs the bat and stands up to his feet, calling out to the girl. “Oi, sunshine.” She turns at his voice. He grins as he lifts the bat up. “Batter up.” 

He charges, his footfalls heavy on the floorboards, and swings the bat out widely. She bends back, dodging the attack. Butcher swings again and she ducks, shooting back up in seconds. Butcher tries again. This time she blocks the attack, catching the bat in her hand. Butcher growls then groans when she kicks him in the chops, sending him crashing into the coffee table. He grunts from the impact, lies stunned for a few seconds, then gets back up. She tosses the bat aside as he approaches her. 

“Alright, no more games” Butcher spits out, raising his fists up. He swings a haymaker. She ducks and springs back up, dodging again when he throws a right hook. Then comes the left hook which she blocks with her arm. He tries the right again, and she catches that one too. She pulls on both of his arms and he finds himself trapped in her grasp.  
He grins in a wicked manner before bringing his head forward in a powerful headbutt, one strong enough to force her back, resulting in her releasing her grip on him. The blow leaves him stunned but his recovery time is quick as he swings an uppercut and connects with her chin, sending her flying onto her back from the power he put into it.

He approaches her and stumbles back with a groan when she sends a kick to his stomach, forcing him to bend forward as the air leaves his lungs in a wheeze. She shoots to her feet and brings a knee to his face, tackling him to the floor. She straddles him and punches him over and over, pummeling his face until Butcher catches her fist in his hand and bends it back far enough to hear a crack. She screams and he uses the distraction to strike her in the face with a haymaker, hitting hard enough for her stumble off from him. He then kicks her away and rushes to his feet, eyes scanning the room for the bat which he finds resting in the corner. 

He’s quick to move, picking up the bat and approaching the girl whose attention is on her injured hand. With a wide grin, he lifts the bat and brings it down on her head. She cries out in pain and tumbles to the floor face first. 

Butcher then brings the bat down on her back, she groans but he doesn’t let up. He strikes her again, and then a third time, moving for a fourth when she suddenly reaches out and again, he feels an unseen force come over him. She swings out her arm and Butcher is thrown over the couch and face first into the wall. 

Free of the attack, she sits up with a pained groan and pops her dislocated hand back into its socket, feeling the pain lift almost immediately as it heals. That fucking motherfucker. She wobbles to her feet, looking across the room to find Butcher doing the same. Fuck. 

Instinctively, she charges him and jumps onto his back, her arms wrapping around his neck tightly while her legs wrap around his waist. He staggers from the sudden weight on him and chokes when he feels her cutting off his air supply. Fucking hell! 

Thinking quickly, Butcher spins around and rams her up against the wall, throwing all his weight on her. Her grunts are loud in his ear, but he keeps at it, repeating the process again and again. He can tell her hold on him is starting to weaken as air enters through his open mouth and nose and begins to fill his lungs. A few more hits and the little twat will release him. 

She groans loudly when she hits the wall for what felt like the tenth time. Her back is on fire and she’s beginning to see stars. At this point, she won’t last much longer. Fuck it. She holds out one of her hands, calling for her knife. 

The blade flies in a flurry across the room, landing into her open palm. Butcher sees this and quickly reaches back, grabbing hold of the hood covering her head. With a grunt of exertion, he flips her over his back and slams her onto the floor. She grunts aloud from the impact and groans when Butcher steps on her wrist, forcing her to release her grip on the knife. 

He kicks the weapon aside and stands over her, looking down at her with a wild look in his eyes, panting heavily. With a growl, he wraps his large calloused hands around her throat once more and picks her up, slamming her into the wall. She coughs and spits blood into his face with a grin. 

Butcher reaches up to his face and wipes off the blood with an angry hiss. “You fucking little cunt!” He punches her face then slams her once more and she chuckles, her hand settling over his wrist. “So, is this where you kill me?” she pants, smirking at him. 

Butcher leans in close, his face set and revealing nothing. “Like I said before. That’s why I’m here sunshine.” She laughs. “Get on with it then. Here, I’ll even help you.” She holds out her hand, the one that isn’t holding on to Butcher, and calls for his pistol. 

The gun hovers midair and floats toward them, hanging in the air. Butcher eyes it before shifting his eyes back onto her. “Take it” she says, giving him a small nod of encouragement. He does and cocks the pistol, pressing it up against her temple. “Any last words?” 

She chuckles. “What could I possibly say that’ll keep you from pulling that trigger? I could beg for my life, but that’ll make no better than that dead piece of shit over there.” She beckons to the body on the floor in the living room. “So just do it already.” 

His eyes widen, just the slightest at her words. Not for what she said. But the way she said them. There’s no fear in her voice. No worry or concern. No panic. If anything, she seems amused and her complacent attitude is piquing his interest, having him wonder (though he doesn’t want to, but he finds he can’t help it) why she isn’t afraid. 

She tries to lean in toward him, but the strong hand around her neck keeps her there in place and she smiles as her eyes trail over him. “Can I just say that you are just magnificent.” She sees confusion flash across his face for a split second and that’s only because she’s so close to him. His eyes are hazel and with the light shining in through the window, there’s a tinge of green in them. His brows furrow as he says, “’Scuse me?” She tightens the hold she has on his wrist. “I haven’t had this much fun in a while. So, thank you. And I’m sorry.” 

Butcher shouts in pain when she twists his wrist in sudden. She punches him in the face with a right hook and he stumbles off to the side, losing his grip on the gun. A kick to the side of his head sends him to the floor. 

He hears running footsteps and knows she’s running for the door. Shaking off the pain, he picks up the bat he had dropped earlier and throws it, watching it hit her in the back. She drops like a sack of potatoes. Grunting, he stands and approaches her with a cheeky grin, reaching down to grab hold of her. “Not so fast there, sunshine.”  
He yanks her up by her arm and gives a satisfied sigh. “Now, where were we?” She only giggles and when he looks at her, she winks. He grunts when he finds himself flying back into the kitchen, crashing into the cabinets. 

She moves to stand by the entrance of the kitchen and looks down at him with a smile. “Sorry, Butcher. This was fun and all, but I should really get going.” She turns and walks away, taking only a few steps before stopping in sudden when a force overcomes and overwhelms her. 

She takes a shuddering intake of breath, inhaling sharply from a powerful and potent pang in her heart. It’s so strong, she doubles over with a sharp gasp. Her legs go weak and she drops to her knees, huffing and puffing. “Hughie…” she breathes out in a whisper, a shaky hand reaching up to clutch at her chest. She breathes raggedly, every breath feeling as if her lungs were closing.

The pain searing through her was an ache, deep and strong. Oh, so strong. Intense. All she could feel was agony. And anguish. And torment. His heart was breaking, shattering. He was hurting. Suffering. A devastating wail escapes her, tears brimming and spilling down her bloodied and bruised face. “Oh… Hughie…” 

Butcher watches the scene with an uplifted brow, confused but also curious, until he’s back to business. He stands with a pained grunt and spots a frying pan resting atop the stove which he picks up with no hesitation. He approaches her as quietly as he can, stopping to stand in front her. She’s still on her knees, doubled over, sobbing and gasping heavily. She doesn’t even seem to acknowledge his presence. 

He waves his hand in front of her and whistles to get her attention. It takes a moment but when she finally looks up, he swings the pan with full force and strikes her in the face, knocking her out cold.


	2. The Name of the Game Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Butcher interrogates this new mysterious supe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the story is going to be following the episodes, with the obvious changes that I'll be making, I've decided to cut the episodes into 3 or 4 chapters. Otherwise, it'll be way too long. Here's part 2 of the first episode.

**The Name of the Game**

**Part 2**

When she comes to it is with a pained groan, her face twisting from the agony coursing through her entire body. Her head is pounding, swimming with pain, a throbbing ache. Fuck. It feels like someone bashed her over the head with—oh, yeah… right. She remembers now. She remembers it all.

When she opens her eyes all she can see is grey. Fucking grey. And it’s all blurry. She shakes her head, blinking a few times to clear her vision. It’s concrete. The grey is concrete. She is staring at fucking concrete. But why? She lifts her head up and takes a quick look around, finding that she is a in a room. It is a big open space, made entirely of concrete. Concrete walls. Concrete floors. Oh. Well that certainly explains it. 

There is a threadbare sofa in the room, an old coffee table that has seen better days, and an old-fashioned television set. And that was all. Huh. Okay. Clearly this place was not meant to be lived in on the regular.

She moves to get up but finds she can’t due to her legs and hands being cuffed to the chair she’s apparently sitting on. What the fuck?

“Well, good morning sunshine.”

She looks up at the gruff accented voice and sighs. Fuck. It’s tall, dark, and handsome. And he is coming towards her. She notices his handsome face is bandaged and bruised. She also notices that the leather coat is gone, and he is wearing a Hawaiian themed floral shirt. “Look whose finally awake” he says as he stands over her, smirking with a gleam in his eyes. “Sleep well?”

Fucking motherfucker.

“Fuck you” she counters, spitting at his boots. His smirk curls upward into a smug grin and he leans in close. “Fuck you too, sunshine.” As he straightens up, he folds his arms over his chest, and she takes in the sight of his large biceps and the broad chest bulging underneath the tight shirt. Fuck. That is hot.

Feeling his eyes on her, she looks up at his face to see his smug grin is still in place, but it is knowing. “Like what you see, luv?”

“No.” She growls all too quickly, looking away, her face red-hot. Fucking motherfucker. He lets out a deep chuckle and she narrows her eyes in a glare. “Are you going to kill me or what?”

He moves to sit atop the coffee table. “If I wanted you dead, sunshine, you would be.” She hums in response. “Well, if you’re not going to kill me, then what do you want?”

“Why don’t we start with a name?”

“Why don’t you tell me why I’m here” she remarks, “How about we start there.”

Butcher says nothing in reply, choosing instead to stare at her. She is young. Mid to late twenties if he had to take a guess. His eyes trace her slim face, her thin cheeks, her chiseled jawline, and her thin red lips. She was bruised, cut, and bloody. Something tugs at him, something akin to guilt, but he pushes it down and lets out a long deep breath he didn’t know he was holding. Then he stands from the table, walking to the end where a manila folder sits, opens it, and picks up what looks like a sheet of paper. “Fourteen homicides.” He turns the paper over as he approaches her and holds it up to her level, revealing it to be a photo of Gabriel. “Well, fifteen now with this twat. You’ve been a busy little supe, haven’t you?”

She remains impassive and stares at him, so he walks back and grabs more photos. “Gregory Adams, 41. Mike Sanchez, 32. Chris Simmons, 24.” With each name he says, he shows the corresponding picture of the man. “All these cunts came from different ethnical backgrounds and socio-economic statuses. But they had one thing in common—”

“They were all rapists” she inputs. “What’s your point? What do you really want to know?”

Butcher tosses the pictures onto the table and leans in close, his face mere inches from hers. “I wanna know why, sunshine. Why is a supe killing rapists?”

She shrugs her shoulders in a casual manner and smiles. It is not a big smile, or a bright smile, it is just a slight shifting of the lines of her lips, the corners rising just a bit. “Because they deserve it.”

Butcher’s smirk turns into a lopsided grin. “Do they now?”

“Yeah.” She sits up in the chair, the cuffs on her wrists clinking against the armrests. “Mark Fitzsimons, he was raping little girls. His youngest victim was six years old. Ricky Alvarez raped his little sister. She was twelve. Darius Williams raped, tortured, and killed four teenage girls. The list goes on and on.”

“A supe on a mission.” Butcher shakes his head, letting out another deep chuckle.

“Call it whatever you want.”

He eyes her for a minute, a look that was somehow both curious and smug on his face. “You fancy yourself a vigilante then?”

She shrugs her shoulders again. “If you need to put a label on it, sure.”

“And what do you get out of it, sunshine?”

“I get to help people.”

“By killing rapists?”

She narrows her eyes at him, sending another glare his way. “By getting their victims justice since the system is a fucking joke. And what do you care anyway? Any of them friends of yours? Is that what this is about? Do you want revenge?”

The sound that comes from Butcher is a cross between a scoff and a humorless laugh, but he doesn’t comment, opting instead to sit back down on the coffee table. “Why rapists? Hm? What makes you do it? You got thousands of cunts and wankers doin’ all kinds of diabolical shit every day, but you only target rapists. Why?”

“Because fuck them, that’s why!” she exclaims in sudden, the sofa in the room slides across the floor loudly. She sits back against the chair after a moment with a heavy sigh. “Now are we done here?”

“I’m askin’ the questions here, sunshine. We’re done when I say we’re done.”

She groans, her shoulders slumping. “Look, I have my reasons for doing what I do. Besides, I’m killing scum. That doesn’t make me a bad person.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, yeah?” Butcher says with a self-righteous smirk. “Oh, go fuck yourself” she reiterates, bobbing her head in his direction. An unseen force shoves him back into a stagger, but he is quick to regain his balance. “Careful sunshine,” he chuckles portentously, “I’ve killed supes for much less than a shove.”

“Fuck you! What have you got against supes anyway?”

“I don’t agree with supes bein’ able to do whatever the fuck they like.”

She tilts her head to the side, in an almost accusatory manner. “But you can, right? You can do whatever the fuck you like? Kill supes just because? How is that fair?”

He leans in close again, his jaw tight and his eyes pure steel. “Fair? You want to talk fair?” His nostrils flare as he speaks through clenched teeth. “Tell me, sunshine, is it fair when a mama bird loses her hatchling to a supe simply for looking at ‘em the wrong way? Is it fair that a man tryin’ to feed his starving family robs a shop and gets his head decapitated? Or how ‘bout a woman being run down in the street like a dog for bein’ a half step off the curb, and the supe that’s done it runs free? Is any of that fair? You supes are glorified. Seen as somethin’ to idolize. That entitlement has you cunts thinkin’ you can do anythin’ you like. And that just don’t sit right wit’ me.”

She can hear the venom his voice carries. She can see that his face has thinned into one hard line, the muscles in his jaw are pulled taut. She can see the resentment in his eyes. She can see the hatred he holds. And it is completely justified. Because he is not wrong. Supes have privilege. And they use it for wrongdoings. But she doesn’t.

“You’re right,” she says, “It’s not fair. It’s fucked up. But none of that has anything to do with me. The victims of those I’ve killed…. their families reached out to me. They wanted revenge and I got it for them. That’s all. I’ve never hurt anyone else.” 

“It don’t matter what you say, sunshine. A supe is a supe. You are a supe and you are all fuckin’ monsters!”

“Fuck you! I am more than just a supe! I am a fucking person! I have thoughts! I have desires! I have regrets! I have emotions! I’m more human than any one of those fuckers I killed!”

Butcher laughs at that, low and heavy and dark. “And what would you know ‘bout being human?” 

She sits up in the chair again, coming close to Butcher. “I love. I care. I feel. And if I truly were the monster you think I am, the monster you see me as, you would be dead.” Her eyes trail over his face. “I had plenty of opportunities to kill you back at that apartment. I can even do it now. One head tilt and I can put you through the fucking wall. One flick of my finger and I can break your spine. One blink and I can snap your neck.”

Butcher’s narrowed eyes glare down at her. He grips her chin and brings her close. “What’s holdin’ you back then, luv?” The tone in his voice is ominous. Her eyes meet his own and she keeps a calm demeanor. “Nothing. I just don’t want to kill you.”

He studies her for a minute, his face betraying nothing until a look of concern flashes a quick second when she inhales sharply and doubles over, breaking free of his grasp. Her eyes screw shut as her throat tightens, panting heavily, feeling as if her chest might explode. Her hands were shaking and clammy, and she felt hot and cold all over as she trembled violently. It was Hughie. His—his heart was beating so fast.

Butcher grips her chin again, firmly this time, and forces her head up. “Oi, sunshine!” The space around her distorts into a blur and then she is gone in a shimmer.

She appears in the middle of a convenience store and finds Hughie on the floor panting heavily, grasping onto the shelf he leaned against for dear life. His face is scrunched up in pain and his eyes are shut tight. The store clerk is shouting but she pays him no mind, rushing instead to Hughie’s side and kneeling beside him. “Hughie!” 

He jumps when she grasps his shoulder, his eyes shooting open. He looks upon her in shock, His brows furrowing. “Artesian?” he respires, “You’re here?”

She nods, pulls him close to her, and the two are suddenly gone, reappearing on a couch inside of a small apartment. One that held nothing extravagant, decorated with practical modern furniture. The walls were an enjoyable soft pastel color, giving off a homely sentiment. Upon entering, the small kitchen stood to the right with the living room centered. To the left is the corridor where the single bedroom and bathroom were placed.

She stands from the sofa and leaves Hughie’s side who stays seated, breathing heavily. He can hear shuffling and clanking sounds coming from the kitchen and focuses on that to slow down his breathing. Noise made the perfect distraction and distractions always helped. After a minute, he calls out in a shaky voice. “Artesian?”

“I’m here” she says as she returns to the living room with a glass of water in hand. “Here, drink this. It’ll help you calm down.” He nods and takes the offered glass, his hands shaking. She sits beside him and rubs his back in smoothing circles as he drinks a mouthful of the cold clear liquid, exhaling when he puts the cup down on the coffee table sitting a few inches away.

Artesian then kneels before him and cups his face in her small hands, beckoning him to look at her. And when he does, she is left almost breathless from what she sees. Hughie’s eyes are shining with pain and grief like she has never seen in them. She can feel his loss, his abandonment, his hurt like venomous blades twisting through her brain and into her heart. He was angry, but also broken. “Oh, Hughie…” she sniffles, tears instantly running down her face. She presses their foreheads together and closes her eyes. “What happened?” 

“Robin…” Hughie breathes out. “She—she’s dead!” He chokes back a sob and sniffs, shaking his head. Artesian’s face drops into a frown and she sighs deeply as a heaviness settles over her. Oh god. Robin. That explained so much. “How?”

“A-Train killed her,” Hughie exhales raggedly, “She—she was a half-step off the fucking curb and he fucking ran through her like a—a fucking bug on a windshield!”

Or a dog on the street. Artesian recalls Butcher’s words. He was talking about Robin. “She exploded…” Hughie continues. “She exploded…. There was so much blood… I’ve never seen so much blood…”

Artesian exhales unsteadily and pulls Hughie in for a hug, embracing him tightly. “Oh god, Hughie… I’m so sorry.” Her sniffle was loud in his ear. “I should’ve been there.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry Hughie.”

“Why weren’t you there?” he whispers as he breaks free from her embrace, sitting back on the couch. “I needed you Artesian.”

“I know.” She sniffles and wipes the tears away from her face. “I felt you. And I was coming, but… I got tied up.”

Tied up? Hughie blinks, his mind clearing just enough to reflect on her words. Tied up. He looks at her. Really looks at her. And he sees the blood, and the bruises, and the cuts. What courses through him is a blended emotional disarray of pain, shock, and absolute horror. “Oh my god, Artesian.” He reaches for her, but she quickly turns away and stands to her full height, giving him her back. “It’s fine. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing!” Hughie exclaims as he shoots up from the couch. He grabs her by the arm, keeping her in place before she could walk away. “What happened Artesian?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Hey! Look at me!” He tugs on her arm, forcing her to spin and face him. “Who did this to you?”

“It’s nothing, Hughie. Let it go.”

“No, fuck that. Art—"

“It’s nothing!” she shouts, waving her hand out and causing a ripple of power to shake the furniture around the living room. Hughie keeps his grip on her, an expression of stubborn determination on his face, his brows set. Artesian sighs. “It’s nothing, really. It was just a mugging, okay? I got into it with this big asshole who was mugging some girl. He managed to get a few hits in.”

Hughie stares at her, unsure whether he believes her. There is something in her eyes, but he can’t feel anything from her that says she’s lying. Their bond tells him nothing, it almost feels as if she is blocking him. So, he releases his hold on her and sighs out a resigned, “Okay.”

“Okay” she echoes.

She exhales and he can see her visibly relax. “So, listen, I’m going to take a much-needed shower. You due at work anytime soon?”

“Not for a few hours. Mind if I stay here? I really don’t want to be around dad right now.”

Artesian gives him a curious glance. “Why? You guys fighting again?”

“I wouldn’t call it that. It’s more like a disagreement.”

“On what?”

Hughie heaves a heavy sigh and sits on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees as he leans forward. “He doesn’t think I should take action against A-Train. I wanted to file a criminal case against him, but the law says a supe can’t be charged for damages while on the job.” He pauses, takes a breath, then continues, “So, then I thought I would file for wrongful death, but he said there was no point because we’d never win. He thinks I should just sign the NDA and take the check.”

“Whoa, wait,” Artesian says in sudden, “Vought offered you a pay-out?” Hughie nods and visibly tenses, his jaw stiffening. “They called it restitution. And all I had to do was sign a boilerplate NDA.”

“What the hell is that?”

“A confidentiality agreement.”

Artesian takes a moment to process Hughie’s words. “So, you’re saying that in signing that agreement you get a check, but you can never talk about what happened and—”

“Robin’s death is ruled an accident and A-Train goes free” Hughie finishes for her. “But it wasn’t an accident, Art. He did it. He fucking ran through her! He killed her!”

Artesian moves to his side, settling before him and placing her hands on his shoulders. “Okay, Hughie, just stay calm.” Tears brim Hughie’s eyes. “How can he expect me to take that money?”

“Shh,” Artesian slides her hands up to cup his face. “I know, Hughie. I know. I’m sure he has his reasons for wanting the money. But you don’t have to take it, okay? If you want to fight this, we will figure out a way. Alright?”

Hughie exhales shakily and nods. “Yeah, okay…”

Artesian mirrors him and offers a small smile. “Okay. Good. Now please, just, relax. Watch some tv or something.” She moves to leave and gasps softly when he pulls her in for a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around her thin form. “Thanks, Art.” She feels their bond open and tingle and returns the embrace with a genuine smile as warmth spreads through her. It is Hughie. She feels his love for her. It is so pure and sincere and tender.

“Hey, so…” Hughie speaks after a moment, “don’t take this the wrong way, but you should really take that shower.” Artesian makes a tsk sound and lightly delivers a backhand to the back of Hughie’s head. “Jerk” she mutters as she straightens out and walks away. He grunts and laughs, rubbing the point of impact. “I love you” he calls after her. “Fuck you” she replies from the down the hall. Hughie smiles at that.

Artesian walks into her bedroom. It’s spacious and simply furnished with a bed in the center, a dresser, a nightstand, and a foyer. With her back facing the door, she gestures at it with two fingers. It swings closed as she steps in front of her vanity, looking at her reflection in the mirror.

She grimaces. Fuck. No wonder Hughie reacted the way he did. Her face was fucked up, with small cuts and bruises littering her skin. A stream of dried blood caked the entirety of the right side of her face, due to the large gash on her forehead. Her nose and mouth were covered in blood. And her lips were split open. Fuck. Butcher got her good. That fucking… dark and mysterious sexy asshole. She can still feel the ghost of his touch on her skin and her body shivers.

She stops herself right there. No. No. That’s bad. Don’t do it Artesian, she thought to herself. Just don’t. Shaking off the aspiration seeping into her bones, she reaches up to her head to undo the ponytail. Her hair, encrusted with dried blood on the hairline, falls free to the small of her back in long dark tresses. She then grabs a wet wipe from the box sitting on the dresser and cleans her face of the blood, sighing as she wills her wounds and bruises to heal, revealing clear fair skin. She may not be invulnerable, but she can regenerate. Just one of the perks of being a supe.

Butcher’s words echo in her mind. _“You’re all fucking monsters.”_

Her eyes close as again a heaviness begins to settle over her until she shakes herself free of it with a soft exhale. She looks at herself in the mirror. Fuck him. What did he know anyway? She knows what she is and what she is not. And what she is not, is a monster. She is a good person. A person who helps people get retribution by punishing those that wronged them. Sure, her methods and actions may not be… morally correct, but whatever, if it gets the job done then the ends justify the means. So, fuck him. No matter how hot he is.

She unzips her sweater and her blood runs cold in sudden. Wait… the knife. Where is her knife? She yanks off the sweater in hasty and clumsy movements. Shit! It’s gone! What about her phone? She digs through the pockets of the sweater and finds nothing. Shit! She tries the pockets of her shorts and comes up empty. Fuck! Her breathing picks up and her heartbeat quickens. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She left her shit back at the apartment! Fuck! 

She jumps at a knock on her door. “Artesian? You okay?” Hughie calls. Her breath catches in her throat and she coughs to clear it. “Yeah.” She cringes at the way her voice cracks. “I’m good, Hughie. I’m… I’m good…”

“I know you’re lying Art. I can feel your panic. And the walls are rumbling and shaking. What’s wrong?”

She clutches at her chest, feeling a tingle. “Damn it, Hughie” she groans softly in frustration. He’s reading her through their bond. Fuck. Being a twin was a bitch sometimes.

“Artesian?”

“Nothing’s wrong…” she takes a deep breath, forcing down her panic. “I just realized I…”

Come on, Artesian, she thought to herself. Think of a lie. Quick. What’s one thing Hughie never questions? “I got my period and I’m out of tampons.”

She can feel Hughie’s hesitance and mild discomfort. “Oh…” he says, “do you need me to go get you some?” Artesian can’t help but smile at her brother’s thoughtfulness. She even laughs a soft, breathy laugh. “No, that’s… that’s okay.”

“I’ll get some anyway” he says. Seconds later, she hears his retreating footsteps, muffled by the carpet and then the door to the apartment closes. Fuck. She hated lying to him, but the less he knew the better. It was safer that way.

Alright. Heaving out a sigh, she pulls on her sweater and zips it up. She then lifts the hood up over head and disappears in a shimmer, reappearing inside Gabriel’s apartment. Her eyes widen in shock. What the hell happened here? The place was completely burnt out and reeked of smoke.

Everything had been scorched and destroyed, all the furniture, all the appliances, all of it had been reduced to blackened debris and embers. She scans the area. There’s no sign of a body, or her phone, or her knife anywhere. Had they been extinguished in the fire? Judging by the scorch marks encompassing the walls and floor, the fire had been a big one. But who set it? And why? 

“The fire was put out a couple of hours ago. We are still investigating, but we are positive an accelerant was used.”

She startles at the sudden voice and ducks into the kitchen as two figures step into the apartment.

“Any signs of a struggle?” queries a second voice.

“A few, a broken coffee table, shattered television, and some damage to the walls. There are no signs of forced entry so we’re thinking Gabriel knew his attacker. From the looks of it, he let them in, and a fight ensued.”

“That doesn’t happen just because.”

“Well we ran his records through the system. Turns out Gabriel’s got himself quite the rap sheet.”

“What are the charges?”

“Rape. Six counts.”

“No conviction on any?”

“No. The charges were dropped after his parents offered a pay-off to the victims.”

“That probably pissed somebody off.”

“You got a theory?”

“Yeah, some angry family member or friend of one of his victims tracked him down, knocked him around enough to send him running.”

“Well some of his personal belongings and clothes are gone. And his bank account was emptied, so it’s looking that way. But why set fire to the apartment?”

“Well, if someone’s after you, what better way is there to ensure your own safety than faking your own death.” 

“You figure he’s on the run?”

“Yeah. Let’s get an APB out for Gabriel Richards. See what happens.”

Artesian suddenly disappears from the apartment, reappearing in her bedroom in seconds. She drops down onto her bed with an exhale, looking down at her hands resting carefully in her lap. Fuck.

That’s it, then. The police think Gabriel’s on the run. That means she’s safe. Right? They don’t know he’s dead. That’s good. But what about her phone? Her knife? They could still be in the apartment. And if the police find them… But the fire could have burned them, destroyed them. Right? Yeah. Yeah, of course. That’s what happened. The fire burned everything. It’s all going to be fine.

She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. Her pounding heartbeat slows and her breathing evens. Maybe with a nice hot shower, she’ll feel better. She stands from the bed and strips off her clothes, leaving a trail behind her on the floor as she walks into her bathroom.

====

Twenty minutes later, a freshly bathed Artesian steps out from the shower and wraps a towel around herself. In five minutes, she is fully dressed in a black ensemble of a crop tee and high waisted bike shorts, and her hair is braided in a side French braid.

Striding out from her bedroom, she can hear the muffled sound of the television from the living room. Sure enough, it was Hughie who turned away from the newscast of an apartment complex fire somewhere uptown. “You’re looking better.” He comments with a smile, tossing a plastic bag at her which she catches with ease.

She flashes him a curious look before peeking into the bag, smiling at the box of tampons and the chocolate bar. “Thanks, little brother.” She chuckles as she sits beside him on the couch, crossing one leg over the other. He scoffs. “Oh, come on. It’s two minutes.”

“Still makes me older” she counters as she settles her head on his shoulder with a sigh. “How are you feeling?” Hughie’s quiet for a minute before he intakes a deep breath and exhales deeply. “I don’t know. I… I keep replaying that moment in my head. Robin…” He exhales again, shakily this time, then clears his throat. “I keep thinking… what if I had kept her on the sidewalk with me instead of letting her take that fucking step. Would she still be alive?”

Artesian grabs his hand and squeezes it. “You can’t think that way, Hughie. You can’t do that to yourself.” He nods. “I know, but I can’t help it. I feel like it’s my fault somehow.”

“But it’s not. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. I know.” He sniffs and quickly wipes away a tear. He falls into a silence and stares absently at the television before he remembers himself and shakes his head clear. “I should get to work.” He stands from the couch in quick sudden movements. “You mind giving me a lift?”

Artesian holds her hand out for Hughie to take. The moment he does, he finds himself in the stockroom of Bryman’s Audio-Visual store. “Thanks” he says, crossing the room to reach his locker. “Sure.” Artesian nods, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. “Thought you said you had a few hours before your shift started.”

Hughie opens his locker and grabs the grey button-down shirt he is required to wear. “Yeah, well, I can always use the overtime.” The rustling of fabric fills the room as he takes off his t-shirt. “Are you sure you’re okay to work?” Artesian asks, looking at the floor. Hughie glances in her direction and gives a quick nod. “Yeah. To be honest, I can use the distraction.”

“Yeah, I get that” Artesian agrees. Hughie finishes with the last button and fixes his collar. “You leaving?” He tucks the bottom half of his shirt into his pants then slips on the lanyard over his neck.

“Think I’ll hang out for a bit, if its okay.”

Hughie nods and closes the door to his locker. “Sure.”

The siblings turn their heads in sync as the door to the stockroom opens and Gary pokes his head in. His eyes are drawn to Artesian and Hughie tenses at the way the man’s stare lingers. “Hey, Artesian.”

“Hey, Gary” she replies in a half-hearted manner. Gary doesn’t seem to notice the impassive expression on her face as his eyes flicker over her form. “Looking good, kiddo. How you been?”

Hughie moves to stand in front of her and clears his throat. “Did you need something, Gary?” The sudden question draws the man’s attention. “Yeah, kid,” he clears his throat, “I’m gonna step out, so you’re gonna have to man the store.” He is gone after that.

Hughie groans in irritation. “I hate the way he stares at you.”

“What?” Artesian laughs.

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t notice. He’s practically undressing you with his eyes.”

“Of course, I notice” Artesian says, “but he’s your boss. I don’t want to be the reason you lose your job. Why do you think I don’t come around often?”

“Yeah, well… won’t have to worry about it for much longer.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” Hughie leaves the stockroom and steps into the store, moving to his place behind the counter. Artesian follows him. “No, come on, does that mean what I think it means?” She hops up on the countertop. “You’re finally going to quit?”

Hughie sits on the chair and sighs. “I don’t know, maybe. Been thinking about it. Robin wanted me to ask for a raise but Gary’s too damn cheap. I do everything for him around here and for what?”

Artesian shrugs her shoulders. “Quit then, if that’s what you really want.” Hughie takes a moment to mull it over then shakes his head. “No, I can’t. Who’ll pay the bills?”

“I can help you and dad. I’ve got some money saved.”

“How? You don’t have a job. Do you?”

Her face betrays nothing when she says, “No, but I have my ways.” Hughie’s brows furrow in question. “What does that mean? You’re not stripping, are you?” His eyes widen. “Are you prostituting yourself?”

Artesian scoffs and rolls her eyes. “No! Jesus, Hughie. There are other ways to make money other than sex. Shit.” He takes in the offended expression on her face and sighs, a regretful look coming over his own face. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Artesian looks off to the side and hops off the counter. “Look, quit, or don’t quit. It’s up to you Hughie. It’s your choice. Just don’t use dad, or unpaid bills, or even me, as an excuse.” Hughie stands to his full height and circles the counter to approach her, placing his hands on her shoulders and spinning her around to face him. “Hey, really, I’m sorry. That—That was out of line.” She nods. “Yeah, it was.”

She watches as Hughie reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a chocolate bar. “Peace offering” he says. She looks at the candy in his hand and shakes her head. “You can’t keep buying me with chocolate.”

“Yes, I can” he retorts, “because I know you’re going to take it.” Her eyes narrow in a glare, but she takes the bar of chocolate, nonetheless.

====

Artesian stares idly at the television, watching a set of lion cubs play fight with each other. She lays unmoving atop the counter, her hands folded over her abdomen. Fuck, she was bored. Traffic flow in the store was next to nonexistent. People just weren’t buying today. Ugh.

She tilts her head back to glance out of the large window seeing that the sun had set, embodying the city in darkness. Her brows furrow. It was night, already? Fuck. She must have spaced out for a while if the sun had gone and she hadn’t noticed.

Sitting up, she sends a glance Hughie’s way. He’s still sitting in the chair, a comic book in his hands. “Is that how you pass the time? Reading comics?”

“Yup” he replies, eyes scanning the page. “Not much else to do. We don’t get many customers.”

“I’ll say” she sighs as she hops down from the counter and takes seat in the chair beside him. “Neither in the day or night.”

“Well, all of this stuff can be bought online…” Hughie trails off as he flips the page of the book.

“It’s a wonder how Gary has been able to keep this place open.”

“Yeah…” he agrees absentmindedly. She releases another sigh and leans back in the chair. “Can you at least put something else on for me to watch? I’m sick of looking at lions.”

Hughie chuckles and sets the comic down on the counter. He brings up a small remote control and aims it at the wall of televisions. The channel on one of them switches to the Tonight Show. “Ugh, I hate Jimmy Fallon” Artesian groans with disgust. “He’s not so bad” Hughie comments.

“He tries too hard.”

“I can always switch it back to the lions.”

“No, no. Fallon’s fine.”

This makes Hughie laugh and Artesian rolls her eyes as she bumps his shoulder. “Don’t laugh at my misery.”

Hughie reaches over and cups her face, bringing her close so their foreheads are touching. “Mm, yes,” he inhales, “Your misery is what I live for. It gives me life.” Artesian laughs and playfully nudges him away. “Shut up.” Her laughter is cut short when an announcement on television catches her attention, a picture of Translucent flashing onto the screen. She freezes instantly, as if splashed with ice cold water.

Hughie grunts from the sudden clench in his heart, feeling a strong squeeze. He looks at his sister in concern, his brows creasing. Her eyes have gone wide and glassed over. “Artesian?” he reaches for her and she flinches, recoiling from him in reaction. Worry instantly engulfs him. “Hey,” he says in a soft and fretted voice, “Art, are you okay?”

She exhales and blinks her eyes rapidly, “Yeah, sorry. I’ll, uh, I’ll be right back.” Hughie thinks he sees tears in her eyes as she turns away from him and stands from her seat. Her steps are fast paced as she hurries into the stockroom.

Hughie sits stunned for a few seconds before he shoots up to his feet and follows. “Art, wait!” He sighs when she enters the bathroom and slams the door shut, locking it. “Artesian!”

“I’m fine, just give me a minute!” she exclaims, grabbing onto the sink, her hands gripping so hard her knuckles turn white. Fuck.

“Art, open the door. Talk to me.”

She pants and forces down the nausea, her body shaking. Tears were building up, but she forced them down.

“Artesian?”

She doesn’t answer his call, just closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Fuck. Calm down. You’re fine. Just calm down.

“Art, I can’t leave the store unsupervised, but… look just come talk to me, okay?” Hughie says. He sighs at her lack of response and walks away, returning to the store.

Artesian moves and sits atop the toilet, which thankfully had the cover down. She drops her head into her hands with a sigh and closes her eyes. Her body is still shaking. “Just calm down…” she tells herself. “You’re fine. You’re safe. Relax.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, feeling her nerves begin to unwind. She stays in that manner for a minute or two, her head in her hands, breathing in and out.

She takes another deep breath. And then another. And then another. And then she feels a twinge of fear that was not hers. Fear and apprehension. She lifts her head up in alarm. Hughie. Something had him unnerved. She can feel the quickening of his heartbeat. Rushing out of the bathroom, she moves toward the door of the stockroom, stopping in sudden at a voice.

“I’m not gonna piss you about, Hughie. I heard what happened to Robin.”

Wait, that voice. The accent. Shit. 

“I’m, I’m sorry, who are you?” Hughie asks. The unsteadiness in his voice was evident.

“She wasn’t in the street. She was one step off the fucking curb. And you didn’t take the pay-off.”

“Yeah. I said, who the hell are you? How do you know that?”

Artesian pokes her head out from behind the door and sees a man in a leather coat standing awfully close to Hughie. “Name’s Butcher. Billy Butcher.”

Oh no. No. No. No. Stepping out of the stockroom, Artesian makes her presence known. “Hughie.” Both Hughie and Butcher turn at her call. She sees the surprise on Butcher’s face for a split second before it turns into amusement, his lips curling up. “Well, well, well, this is unexpected.” She ignores his comment and moves to stand beside Hughie, a scowl on her face. “What are you doing here Butcher?”

“Wait, what?” Hughie looks upon his sister in bewilderment, his confusion evident in his voice. “You know this guy, Artesian?”

“Artesian…” Butcher says, his voice laced with the smallest hint of levity. She holds Butcher’s stare, her eyes narrowing in a glare. “Yeah, I know him.”

“H—how, uh, where…?”

The anger in Artesian’s eyes disappears as she realizes that she doesn’t have an answer to that question, not without telling him the truth. And that wasn’t an option. Hughie would never be able to handle it. Fuck. She gives Butcher a pleading look.

“Art?”

“Uh… he—um… we, uh… we’re…”

“We’re fucking,” Butcher reveals with straight face. Hughie’s eyes go wide in surprise. “Oh—oh wow, uh… okay…” he stammers, looking toward Artesian who in return looks absolutely mortified. In sudden, Butcher settles a hand on Hughie’s shoulder and casually leads him away. “Listen, I was thinking that, uh, you and me should have a little bit of a chat.”

Hughie looks away from his sister to set his eyes on Butcher. He quickly shakes his head and clears his throat. “About?”

“An opportunity” is all Butcher says. The sincerity in his voice lifts Hughie’s stunned stupor, his brows furrowing as his expression becomes grave. “Talk then.”

“Join us for a walk, yeah?”

Hughie stares at Butcher for a moment then nods. “Okay, just give me a minute.”

Butcher waits until he’s gone before approaching Artesian with a cheeky grin. “Good to see ya, sunshine.” The embarrassment she felt all but lifts as a wave of anger courses through her, her eyes narrowing in another glare, a heated one this time. “Fuck you!” she hisses through clenched teeth, “Why the fuck did you say that?”

Butcher leans in close with a shit-eating grin. “Would you have preferred I tell him the truth?”

“No!” she replies sharply, “But you could have said something else! Anything else!”

“What and miss the look on your face.”

She grunts in frustration, her hands balling up into fists, “Fuck you.” Butcher reaches out his hand to grip her chin but she’s quick to bat it away, an action that makes him chuckle softly.

“What do you want with Hughie?” she demands.

“Just wanna talk.” When she flashes him a dubious look, he places one of his hands over his heart. “Scouts honor.”

The door to the stockroom opens and Hughie’s voice sounds as he steps into the store, shirt changed and jacket on. “Okay, let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback's been good guys, I appreciate it. But I'd really love to hear your opinions~ Part 3 will be coming soon.


	3. The Name of the Game part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Butcher proposes a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuck, guys! Feedback's been great! Thank you so much!   
> Anyhow, here's part 3 of the Name of the Game. So sorry it took so long but hey, at least it got done. Had to cut this chapter in half. It turned out to be too long, like 22 pages roughly. That's way too long. The next chapter, which I will try to post by the end of week if I can finish my revisions in time, will the last of the Name of the Game and then I'll be moving on to Cherry.

**The Name of the Game**

**Part 3**

The city was alive with throngs of people walking the sidewalks and flooding the streets. “You’re a fed?” Hughie voices as he studies the FBI badge in his hands. Beside him is Artesian and Butcher leads the front, his stride sure and confident. “You don’t sound like a fed.” 

“Dude…” Artesian comments to which Hughie casually replies, “What? I’m just saying. The accent…”

“What, I can’t immigrate? There’s a giant green slapper with her ass in the harbor that says different.” Butcher declares.

“You don’t really look like one, either” Hughie expresses.

“No? What do I look like?”

“Like you’re starring in a porn version of the Matrix.”

“Fuck me…” Artesian sighs, shaking her head in mild disbelief. Hughie looks at her and shrugs his shoulders in a defensive manner. “What? He does. Why wear leather if it’s not for that?” 

“Because its sexy” she responds in which Butcher turns his head back to look at her with a small grin of amusement. Her eyes widen as she realizes what she said and her face flushes almost instantly, her cheeks coloring a bright red. “Well, it’s all there in black and white” he says, throwing Artesian a wink before facing forward. Hughie rolls his eyes at the interaction. “Okay. Uh, what exactly can I do for you?”

“No,” Butcher shakes his head, “You got it all wrong, Hughie. It’s what I can do for you. You see, you ain’t alone, son. It happens a lot more than you think. Supes lose hundreds of people each year to collateral damage.”

“No. Come on, that’d be all over the news. People would be screaming bloody murder.” Hughie’s skepticism is apparent in his voice and facial expression. 

“Yeah, look,” Butcher gestures with his hands while he speaks, an action Artesian took notice he does often, as an animated speaker would. “There might be the odd mention of it now and again, like with Robin, but there’s a fuck-sight more that happens that just gets swept right under the rug.”

“Why?” Hughie queries as they come to a stop at a crosswalk. Butcher turns to face the twins and gestures at the dozens of ads for various superhero properties that make up times square. “Ain’t it obvious? Movie tickets, merchandising, theme parks, video games. A multi-billion-dollar global industry supported by corporate lobbyists and politicians on both sides.” He circles them as he speaks, his eyes alternating from Artesian to Hughie. “But the main reason that you won’t hear about it is ‘cause the public don’t want to know about it. See, people love that cozy feeling that supes give them. Some golden cunt to swoop out of the sky and save the day so you don’t gotta do it yourself.” He settles before them. “But if you knew half the shit they get up to… ooh.” He throws a knowing glance at Artesian and leans in towards her, clicking his tongue, almost as if scolding her. “Fuckin’ diabolical. But then,” he takes a step back and bows, “That’s where I come in.”

“Come in to… to do what?” Hughie asks with a questioning look, his brow arched. Butcher steps dangerously close to him, his face rigid. “Spank the bastards when they get out of line.” There’s a hardness to his voice that Artesian remembers all too well. He throws another knowing look at her, going as far as to add a little smirk.

“How do you spank a supe?”

Butcher throws a glance Hughie’s way, then spins and walks off. “Come on, son.”

“Uh, where?”

“You’ll love it.”

“Uh, not likely.” Hughie’s voice is laced with uneasiness. “Uh, listen, I think this is good; I’m good. Uh, thank you for an extremely weird conversation, but, uh, I don’t want to go to a second location with you.” He takes a step back and grabs his sisters’ hand, pulling her close to his side. “So, I’m gonna get back to work. Thank you. Come on Art.” He turns to leave but Artesian stays grounded. “Wait” she says. A befuddled look comes over his face as he gapes at her. “What are you doing? Let’s go.”

“Maybe we should go with him.”

Hughie scoffs, his baffled expression changing to one of disbelief. “What? Why, cause your fucking him?” Artesian rolls her eyes and sighs. “No, stop it, come on.”

“Well then why?”

Artesian glances in the direction where Butcher stands at the end of the crosswalk, watching them. “Maybe he’s on to something.”

“You should listen to her, lad!” Butcher calls out. With a sigh of annoyance, Hughie glances up at Butcher. “This is between me and her, thank you.” He looks back to his sister, his voice firm. “Let’s go, Art.” His hold on her tightens and he turns to leave but stops as Bucher calls out to him again.

“Hughie! Hughie.”

He turns around and Butcher closes the distance between them. “This is your one and only, mate. Once I go, I’m gone.” He steps close to Hughie. “I’m offering you the opportunity to get them that got your girl.” His voice drops to a throaty murmur. “What have you got to lose that you ain’t already lost?” He holds Hughie’s gaze for a moment before shifting it to Artesian, throwing a wink her way. Then he simply walks off.

Artesian’s eyes follow him, as did Hughie’s. “You’re not seriously considering going after him, are you?” he asks. She tears her gaze away from Butcher’s retreating form and looks up at her brother. “You were the one who said you wanted to get payback for Robin. If you really want to do this…” she pauses and looks up at him, “If you really want to get revenge on A-Train, I say we follow him.”

Hughie stares into the crowd in search of Butcher, catching a glimpse of him turning a corner. “You really think he knows how to get A-Train?” He looks down at his sister, his eyes meeting hers. “I think he’s our ticket in” she says, studying him. From the look on his face, she can see that he’s intrigued. He wants to follow Butcher, but he’s hesitant about it. She can feel that’s he’s afraid and unsure, but he’s also enthralled. And if she were being honest with herself, she was too.

There was something about Butcher. It was like the motherfucker had some sort of formidable pull that lured you in. “I’ll be with you all the way” she says softly. He takes in her earnest expression and nods. “Okay. Let’s go.” 

The two disappear in a shimmer and reappear seconds later in an alley. “Where are we?” Hughie queries as he glances around at the surrounding structures. Butcher turns his head back. “Keep your mouths shut” he says as he comes to a sudden stop before a steel door belonging to a massive and closed off building. He bangs on the door as the twins move to stand behind him. A few seconds later, the slot on the door slides open and Butcher steps in front of it, blocking the view of the person on the other side. “Harry” he says in a voice that comes off a little too casual. “Got your message. Thank you for being an upstanding citizen.”

The voice on the other side is deep and anxious. “You know this is fucking police brutality, man. You know what they’ll do to me, they catch me letting you in?”

“Not half of what I’ll do if you don’t” Butcher threatens. His tone of voice changes to a low, dark, and gravely nature and it sends shivers through Artesian. Shivers of desire. Fuck. She turns away and faces the alley, taking a breath to suppress the emotion before Hughie picked up on it.

The slot suddenly slams shut, and Butcher softly exhales as Hughie quickly asks. “Did he just say you were police?” Butcher shrugs his shoulders in a dismissive manner. “Yeah, you know, cop, fed, all the same to twats like that.” He straightens when the door opens and steps through the threshold, pulling Hughie and Artesian inside after him when he sees they didn’t follow.

Hughie staggers before catching himself while Artesian falls back into Butcher’s arms with a gasp, her face instantly heating up when she’s suddenly made aware of just how hard his body is. Oh fuck. She swallows and scrambles out of his grasp, stepping back. Her actions and flustered state have Butcher chuckling softly.

She clears her throat, her brows creasing in confusion as her ears pick up the sounds of erotic moans and groans. The fuck? Following the noises, she turns, and her mouth drops in disbelief. Two supes. Two naked supes. Two naked supes are floating in midair. Two naked supes are floating in midair while having sex. What the fuck…?

“Holy shit” Hughie voices, his mouth hanging open and eyes wide in shock. Butcher slips his hands into his pockets and settles in between them. “Pick your jaws up off the floor and try to blend in.”

It takes a moment for Hughie to be able to pull his gaze away from the sight, looking at Butcher with a questioning expression. Butcher side-eyes him, a curve at one side of his mouth. “This is the only place where the supes can scratch their filthy little itch without the paps taking snaps” he elucidates as he saunters forward in his usual flare, taking the lead.

“Fuck me…” Artesian says in a low voice, yelping in sudden when she feels a hand slap her backside. She spins around to come face-to-face with a floating penis. The supe it belonged to flashes a suggestive smile. What the fuck? Hughie moves in quick, taking her hand in his and pulling her away from the supe. She’s in front of him now and her eyes wander, taking in the expensive décor and marble flooring, the busy bustling of the crowds, and the uproar of supe debauchery of sex, drugs, and alcohol happening around them. What. The. Fuck.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Hughie stops his trek in sudden and Artesian and Butcher both turn back to look at him. “That’s Ezekiel” he says, pointing out a man with short blond hair receiving oral sex from another man. “The “Capes for Christ guy. Preaches all that “pray the gay away” shit.”

The three watch as Ezekiel stretches his body across the aisle in front of them, settling himself between two male supes on a couch nearby. His arms wrap around the two men, pulling them close for a deep heated kiss. “And now he’s the meat in the Manwich. Fuckin’ hypocrite” Butcher comments, stepping over Ezekiel.

He leads the way into the security room, located in the back of the building where the big man named Harry waits for them. He directs them to the wall of monitors and sits at the table. “Bring up that special footage” Butcher says as he joins his side, leaving the twins to stand by the door. Hughie leans in close to Artesian. “What do you think he means by special footage?” She shrugs her shoulders. “Your guess is as good as mine. But it’s obviously something he wants you to see. Must be important.”

“Keep going forward. That’s it. Further. Further. There. There. Stop.” Butcher beckons them over with a small wave. “Oi, come have a look.” The twins share a look and step forward, approaching the wall of screens where footage of A-Train sitting in a booth is playing.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Hughie exhales sharply, stepping back as panic begins to stir and rise. “A-Train’s… A-Train’s here right now?” he stutters in a shaky voice. Artesian takes his hand and gives it a tight squeeze.

“Was.” Butcher responds. “This is from last night.” He leans in close to Harry. “Turn it up.” He then straightens up and steps back, tucking his hands into his coat pockets. The volume increases, filling the room. Hughie draws in a breath, takes his hand back from his sister, and moves closer to the screen playing the video, his arms folding over his chest.

The tape shows another supe sit by A-Train. “I cannot believe you ran through a bitch.”

“You want to hear something crazy? I ran so fast through this bitch that I swallowed one of her molars. Like a bug on the fucking freeway.”

“Dude, that’s nasty.” The pair laugh, in a mocking and ridiculing way.

Artesian inhales softly from the sharp stabbing pain in her racing heart. Her hand shoots to her chest, clutching as she leans back against the table behind her. Butcher turns in her direction, a brow lifting in question. He sees that her eyes are trained on Hughie, so he looks too. Hughie’s face has sunk in anger and his eyes have darkened; he’s seething. “They’re laughing. Just… like she’s a joke.” He takes a shuddering intake of breath, his fingers twitching and tightening into fists. “They’re fucking laughing.” Butcher steps close to him. “So, what are you gonna do about it?” Hughie’s face goes rigid as he turns to face Butcher.

The heartache in Artesian’s chest grows stronger and sharper, forcing a groan from her as she turns and crouches, holding onto the table for support. Her eyes close with the effort of trying to shut out the pain. Hughie looks back at the sound and rushes to her side, kneeling beside her. “Art…” his voice is soft.

She takes a deep breath and meets his gaze. He can see the anguish in her eyes and his face drops in a frown. “Oh Art…” His hand settles on her back and rubs soothing calming circular motions. “I’m sorry. Just breathe, okay?” Artesian doesn’t say anything, only nods her head as she takes several deep breaths. Hughie takes one of his own. “I’m sorry.” He glances in Butcher’s direction whose watching in silence. “I should get her out of here.”

Butcher steps over and stands over them. “She gonna be alright?” he asks. There’s a small tinge of concern in his voice. Hughie shoots him a quick glance. “Yeah. She just needs some air.” He then looks back to his sister and leans in close to her. “Do you think you can walk?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is strained but nonetheless she grits her teeth and stands. When she stumbles, Hughie is right there at her side to hold her up. “I got you, Art.” He wraps an arm around her waist whilst the other draped her own around his neck. “Let’s go” he says. Artesian exhales wearily and waves a hand at the door. It swings open and Hughie leads them through without looking back.

====

“Sunshine? You all right? Lookin’ a little pale there.” Butcher expresses, his eyes on Artesian. She sits across from him, appearing pallid and weak. Her arms are wrapped around herself and her eyes can barely stay open.

“Sunshine?”

She sniffs and her head drops onto the table with a loud thud. Butcher quirks a brow in question, glancing in Hughie’s direction.

“She’ll be fine” Hughie utters, taking a swig of the drink Butcher had ordered for them. He cringes from the strong taste of the whiskey and the burn the harsh substance leaves down his throat as he swallows. “She just needs to rest.” He says in a hoarse voice, grunting as he clears his throat.

“Reckon it got somethin’ to do with what happened back at the club?” Butcher inquires, taking a sip of his own drink. “Ain’t never seen that happen to a supe.”

“You know?”

Butcher’s lips quirk into a small amused smile. “Caught that little action she did with the door. Ain’t that hard to put the pieces together.” He sees the worried look come over Hughie’s face. “Easy, son. Ain’t gonna do nothin’ to her.” Not now at least. He gives a little wink to ease Hughie which seems to work because Hughie visibly relaxes. “Now, care to elaborate…” Butcher beckons to Artesian.

“She,” Hughie clears his throat once more, “She felt my anger… and the impact got to be too much for her.” He settles a hand atop Artesian’s back, feeling it rise and fall steadily. He rubs lulling circles like he had done previously and meets Butcher’s gaze, continuing after Butcher gestures him to do so. “We share a bond. She can feel me. She can feel my presence, my emotions, my feelings. And I can feel hers.”

“Thought you weren’t a supe.”

“I’m not. Only she is. But since we’re twins, we’re linked. We were born connected.” He sighs and takes another sip from his drink, grunting from the burn. “Watching that video… it upset me. Angered me…” he paused for a short moment, “She absorbed it and it affected her. But…” he aims his gaze down, staring at the glass of whiskey in front of him. “…I needed to see it. I just…” he exhales, looking up and meeting Butcher’s eyes. “They’re all like that? All of them? Even Homelander?”

“Homelander’s the exception. He doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke. Man’s a saint. But the rest of ‘em, yeah.” A darkness comes over Butcher’s face as he gives a small shake of the head. “Pardon my French, fuck those fuckers.” He reaches into his coat for the files tucked safely away and sat them atop the table. “Here. Have a shufti of that.”

“What are these?” Hughie queries, taking the files to look through them. “That’s the police log the day that Robin got murdered” Butcher replies, giving his itchy eye a quick rub. “Couple of bar fights. A few cars got nicked. But you know what’s not in there? No bank alarms going off. No one charged at central booking. A-Train stopped two bank robbers, my arse. Someone’s fucking hiding something.” He taps the folder with his pointer finger.

Hughie glances up from the papers in his hands, meeting Butcher’s eye. “Hiding what?” Butcher shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I don’t know, whatever dodgy shit he was up to that night. Why couldn’t he stop? I mean, what was in that bag? You know? Who was he running from?”

“Or where was he running to?” Hughie adds.

“Bingo.” Butcher proclaims, gesturing with his finger. “Work that out, and we’ll have the fucker, I can smell it.” Feeling a rush of excitement, Hughie nods in agreement. “Okay. Okay, so, um, what can I do to help?”

“Here’s what you do” Butcher began, leaning over the table. “Ring Vought, tell ‘em you’ll take the money, sign the NDA, but only if A-Train’s there in person when you do it.” Hughie’s excitement disperses almost instantly at the mention of A-Train. “Why does A-Train need to be there?”

“Then they’ll take you into the Seven Tower, through security, mate, and then you’re gonna plant a bug.” Butcher continues, ignoring Hughie’s question.

“A bug?”

“A bug.” Butcher confirms. He waves a finger. “And we’ll have a little listen. See what’s really going on.” Hughie shook his head in attempt to clear it, his mind running a million miles a minute. “Okay, let me just, sorry, let me just get this straight. You want me to, you want me to go to Seven Tower by myself, and—and you want me to plant a bug, like I’m what, like I’m fuckin’ James Bond?”

“Yeah, exactly. You got it.” Butcher leans back into the booth; a smile curling his lips. Hughie sits in stunned silence for a quick second before saying, “You’re FBI.” A loud snort comes from Artesian’s direction, gaining the attention of both men, their eyes on her. “Art?” Hughie calls out to her, his brows furrowed in question. When no response came, he shrugs his shoulders and returns to the conversation. “Look, if you’re FBI, then get a warrant. Why do you, why do you even need me?”

“Hughie, Hughie, look, mate,” Butcher points to himself. “I got a warrant, all right? But that place is firewalled, untappable, and locked up tighter than a nun’s knickers. I couldn’t get myself in there in a million years. But you son,” he points a finger at him, “You could do it.”

Hughie is quick to decline. “No, no, I can’t, okay? I can’t. No. You didn’t see A-Train covered in…” His words fail as the memory of A-Train covered in blood returned in a flash. He swallows thickly and forces down the torment stirring within him as Artesian groans. “And, and I’m what, I’m just supposed to go in there, and I’m supposed to, I’m supposed to shake his hand? And smile?”

“Yeah” Butcher casually replies.

“No” Hughie shakes his head. “I’m not g—I’m not… do you know who my favorite musician is?”

“Who?”

“James Taylor. Number two, Simon and Garfunkel. Number three, Billy Joel. Any of those guys, they don’t infiltrate. Okay? I’m not an infiltrator.” His hand left Artesian’s back to prod the table for prominence.

Butcher’s smile dropped as he sat back against the seat with a soft sigh. “Hughie, Hughie, fucking grow a pair. You heard that cunt laughing at your girl.” Hughie makes a sound of discomfort and shoots up from his seat, visibly upset. “No. No. No. No. I can’t. I can’t do that. I’m sorry, I’m just gonna fuck it up, and you’re not gonna have your bug, and I’ll… be dead. I’m not, I’m not like you.” He darts his gaze sideways, looking anywhere but Butcher’s eyes then he turns his attention on Artesian, his hands gripping her shoulders. “Let’s go, Art.”

“Fuck off…” She grumbles in protest. 

“Art, come on.” He shook her lightly. “Let’s go.” His body is beginning to tremble, his heartrate is picking up, and he can feel his panic is starting to rise. “Art—” 

“Just go…” she groans in a weary breath, lifting her head up. Hughie can see the glower on her face and the exhaustion in her eyes. “Art…”

“Just fucking go” she respires, lowering her head back onto the table. Hughie stares at her for a moment, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Okay,” he exhales, “Fine.” He turns away and storms out of the bar. 

Butcher picks up his drink with a sigh and empties the glass, swallowing the last of his whiskey. Fuckin’ hell. He shakes his head in anger and disappointment. It’s over. He pushed Hughie too hard, too quickly. And now he’s lost him. Fuck.

He sets the empty cup down onto the table, his eyes drifting to Artesian. He stares at her, recalling the nights events. From what he had seen, they shared a strong kinship. Maybe if he tries a different approach, he could get him back. He clears his throat. “Oi, sunshine?”

“No fucking way” she quickly replies, her voice muffled. Butcher’s mouth twitches in amusement and he chuckles, a soft and husky sound. “Haven’t even said anythin’ yet.”

“You don’t have to.” Artesian releases a weary sigh as she lifts her head up. “I heard your little plan and I know what you’re thinking. And my answer is no fucking way. I’m not setting foot inside the Seven Tower.”

“Come now, sunshine—”

“No, fuck you. It’s not happening.”

Butcher’s face becomes drawn and serious, all traces of amusement gone. “I see. Looks like I’ve no choice but to give this to the feds.” He reaches into his coat with a sigh and places a phone on the table, turning it on and bringing up a picture of Gabriel’s corpse.

Artesian’s brows furrow sharply as her eyes dart between Butcher and the mobile phone. “That’s my phone…” She reaches for the device, but Butcher is quick to snatch it away. “Not so fast there, luv.” There is a teasing edge to his voice as he waves the gadget in a taunting manner. Her eyes narrow dangerously as she sends him an icy glare.

The cell phone suddenly sails out of Butcher’s hand and into her own in which she quickly deletes the picture. “Sunshine,” he chuckles with a cruel sneer. “Do ya really think I ain’t got copies of that photo?”

She stares at him for a minute, taking in that sneer of his. “You’re going to blackmail me, aren’t you?” she inquires. He leans forward, his voice lowering to a throaty mutter. “If ya want, think of it as me callin’ in a favor.”

“A favor?” she repeats in disbelief, her eyes flaring in anger.

“Ya owe me, luv. Thanks to me, the feds think the dead twat’s runnin’.” 

She blinks and tilts her head in question. “You… that was all you? Getting rid of the body? The fire? Emptying the bank account? You did that? Why?”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout it, sweetheart. Some things are best left alone.”

She shakes her head. “Nuh—uh. Now way. You give me an answer, or I’m gone, and you won’t get what you want from my brother. I’ll make sure of it.” She stares at Butcher again and he just stares back with an expression that told her nothing, a cool façade of indifference. “Is this essential, luv?”

She sighs in exasperation and rolls her eyes. “Goodbye Butcher” she declares as she stands abruptly, the chair sliding back with a loud scrape. Butcher reaches and grabs hold of her wrist. “I think it’d be in your best interest to stay, sunshine.”

“Excuse me?” she says.

“See,” Butcher starts, lips curling into a callous grin. “Along with that photo, I happen to have that knife of yours. It’s got your prints and that cunts blood on it.”

Her eyes narrow and her face twists in fury. “You fucking asshole” she growls. He simpers, looking pleased with himself, and beckons at the empty chair with a bob of his head. “Sit.”

Artesian yanks her hand free from his grasp and drops into the chair, a deep scowl on her face. She crosses a leg over the other, leaning back into the seat, her arms folding over her chest. “I just want you to tell me why. Why go through all that trouble of staging his disappearance and destroying the apartment if you were there to kill me?”

“I wasn’t there to kill ya.” Butcher replies. “I was there to kill the little wanker.” He sees her grow confused, a brow lifting in question. So, he continues. “I’m what you might call an independent contractor. You got a problem, you call me, I solve the problem. Jane had a problem—”

She raises a hand to stop him. “Wait, Jane? Jane Johnson? That Jane? She hired you too?” Butcher sees the affronted expression on her face. “I can’t believe…” she huffs and shakes her head, “Well…” Seriously, what the fuck? Why would she do that? The fuck?

“Sunshine?”

Artesian takes a deep breath to compose herself, exhaling through her to nose. “Alright then… so, you were there for the same reason I was, fine. But that still doesn’t explain why you went out of your way to help me and cover up any remnants of my being there.”

“What makes ya think I did it to help ya?” His voice has dropped to a grave tone.

“Well if not for that, then why?” she demands, holding his gaze. That smirk of his returns. “I needed leverage on ya.”

Oh. She nods. Well of course. Butcher, after witnessing her power firsthand, must have figured he could use her. And what better way to ensure she would obey than to have solid evidence of a crime she committed. It makes sense. What other reason could there be? She sighs. Well there it is. She got her answer.

She looks at her untouched glass of whiskey and picks it up, putting it against her lips. Butcher watches her in amusement as she drank. “Now that we got that outta’ the way, how’s about we get back to business.” She sighs loudly and slams the empty glass onto the table, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Look,” she exhales, meeting his gaze. “Even if I wanted to help you get into the tower, I can’t.”

“And why’s that?”

She averts her gaze, her shoulders hunching as she sits in silence for a moment before speaking. “Someone… I used to know works there… I’d be recognized instantly…”

Butcher stares at her, taking in the solemn look that has settled over her face and the darkness in her eyes. Something about that expression on her face… a sadness… she’s not lying. He clicks his tongue. “All right, luv. If you can’t get me into the tower, then help me with you brother.”

“Help you how?”

“I want you to…” he pauses as he searches for the right word, “…persuade him to go into that tower and plant my bug.”

“What?” She expresses, shaking her head. “No. I can’t do that.”

“Ah, but ya can” Butcher counters. “Hughie told me ‘bout your bond. Anythin’ he feels, you feel. Now, I been watchin’ you two and I reckon you can use that little bond to… boost his morale.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“Well, if you don’t, the feds are going to get a nice little gift delivered right to their door. As will daddy. And what will baby brother think once he learns the truth?”

Artesian glowers, her eyes narrowing in a heated glare as she throws a most foul look his way. “Fuck you” she states, voice coated with malice. “Fuck you too” Butcher counters. He chuckles, deep and dark, and leans back into the seat. “What’s it gonna be then?”

Her hands clench into fists. This fucking… son of a bitch… fucker. He had her. She knew it. And he knew it. And she couldn’t do much about it. So… fuck it. She exhales softly. “Fine. I’ll help you.”

“Good.”

“Just so you know,” she adds. “You’re a fucking asshole and I don’t like you.”

“The feelin’s mutual sunshine. But I’ll tell you what. Once the job’s done, we’ll call it even.”

Artesian quirks a brow in doubt. “Just like that?”

“Just like that” he replies with a wink. The action causes a flutter in her stomach from how attractive she found that, and she forces herself to push the sentiment down. Folding her arms over her chest, she stares at him. He stares back, all hazel eyes and self-satisfaction. His smirk is even a little smug. Fucking… fucker.

She turns her head at the sound of footsteps, directing her gaze up as Hughie comes to stand before them with a look of resolve. “Okay, man. I’m in.” Butcher holds his stare for a short moment then gives a quick nod. “All right.” He stands from the booth and settles a hand on Hughie’s shoulder. “Come on then, son. Ya got a phone call to make.”

“Uh, wait, hold on” Hughie replies, reaching into the shoulder bag he carried. He retrieves a sandwich and places it on the table in front of Artesian. “Here, Art. Figured you’d be hungry.” She looks up and meets his eye. “Thanks. You figured right. I’m hungry as shit.” He laughs softly and gives a small smile. “Yeah.”

“Right then. Eat up, luv. We’ll be back.” Butcher grips Hughie’s shoulder and leads him away. Artesian watches the two enter the bathrooms then heaves a sigh and picks up the sandwich, unwrapping it. Turkey, ham, and cheese on white bread, her favorite. Licking her lips, she takes a big bite. Her mouth salivates instantly, and she greedily takes another bite, a loud moan escaping her as her eyes close in ecstasy. Oh, fuck yes.

“Must be a great sandwich.”

The sudden deep suave voice startles her, her eyes shooting open. A handsome man in casual attire stands over her with a charming smile. He has light skin, warm blue eyes, and black hair curled softly around his ears. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Artesian covers her mouth with her hand and swallows. “Mm,” she clears her throat, “N—no, it’s fine.” He gestures to the empty booth, “Can I join you?”

“Uh—y—yeah, sure” she stutters, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, it’s—uh—it’s been a long night.”

“No worries.” The stranger chuckles softly as he takes seat across from her. “I know all about long nights. I’m Josh.” He holds his hand out for a handshake which she takes. “Artesian” she replies with a smile of her own. His brow rose in interest. “Artesian? That’s… different.” Her own brows furrow. “Different good or different bad?”

“Good! Definitely good.” He licks his lips. “So, are you here alone?”

“No. She’s wit’ me.”

Artesian jumped at the sudden accented voice, turning back. Butcher stands behind her, his eyes roaming over Josh who stared up at his towering form. “Uh, hey guys…” she says as she rises from the seat, glancing from Butcher to Hughie who stood behind him. “All done?” 

Butcher directs his gaze onto Artesian, grabbing hold of her arm. “Time to go, luv.” As he pulls her away, Hughie picks up the forgotten sandwich and follows in silence. Once the trio set foot outside, Artesian breaks free of Butcher’s iron grip. “Geez, Butcher. Was that necessary? I was just talking to him. No need to be jealous.” 

“Don’t get the wrong idea, sunshine” he remarks with a snort. “We just don’t need any distractions. ‘Specially any that could jeopardize the job. ‘Sides, he was a fuckin’ wanker.” With that, he walks away leaving Artesian to turn to Hughie who only shrugs his shoulders.

Rolling her eyes, she sighs then looks up at the clear blue sky, blinking her eyes to adjust to the morning light coming from the sun shining brightly. “Were we out all night?” 

“Yeah” Hughie replies.

“Fuck” she says.

The two turn at a honk and see Butcher standing before a dark colored Cadillac. “Right, in you go. We got places to be, things to do, yeah?” He shifts into the driver’s seat without waiting for a response. Hughie looks to his sister in question. “After you” she says. He nods and climbs into the passenger’s side. That left Artesian in the back.

She opens the door and scrunches her nose up at the mountain of garbage and waste littering the vinyl seats. Well, uh… Butcher was not one for cleanliness it seemed. Ugh. Gross. Using her power to clear the seat off, she tosses the trash onto the other side of the seat, then slides into the car as the engine starts.

She spots a dog toy amongst the rubbish and her brows knit together. Huh. That’s… interesting. Butcher didn’t strike her as the type to have a pet. And yet… “Do you have a dog?” she finds herself asking. Butcher was quick to reply with a hard, “No.” The car then peels out of the curb and merges into traffic. Well alright then.

Grabbing hold of the seatbelt, Artesian pulls it over herself and clicks it on just as Hughie turns back. “Saved this for you” he says, holding out the half-eaten sandwich. She glances up and flashes a warm smile, taking the sandwich, and unwrapping it. “Thanks. So, what did Vought say?” she asks as she takes a bite.

Hughie sighs. “Told them I’d sign the NDA if I got a face-to-face apology from A-train.”

“And?” Her voice is muffled from the food in her mouth.

“They said no.”

She swallows. “So, what now?”

“Now,” says Butcher, glancing into the rearview mirror and meeting her gaze. “We head to Seven Tower.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so that was part 3. Any thoughts? Questions? No? Okay, guess I'll get on finishing the next chapter and maybe making some small edits to the other chapters. Oh! Before I forget, there is going to be mentions of sexual assault in the next chapter. This is the first warning and I will put another warning when I post the next chapter. Okay? Okay. Till next time.


	4. The Name of the Game part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Butcher calls in the favor and things take a dark turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I'd like to say: Thank you so much for all the support and your wonderful comments! I just love reading them! Knowing that you guys like my writing, I tell you, there's no better feeling. Really. To think I was too scared to post this story in the first place, but I'm glad I did. 
> 
> Okay, second thing I'd like to say is: I am so sorry it took so long to update. It's just a long weird process I go through to write new chapters. I watch and re-watch the episodes to figure out how I can make Artesian fit into the story. Then I watch them again so I can write out what the characters say, kind of like a script. (Does anyone know where I can get an actual script for the episodes? That would help a lot). Then comes the writing and rewriting, whether it be on paper or computer, (I usually switch between both when I get stuck) then the editing. Sometimes my mind gets tired, so I take a break for a few days and play some videogames. So yes, it's a long process that I go through. And I tell you this so that maybe you can have a better understanding as to why I take so long. I wouldn't want you guys thinking that I just don't want to update. Trust me, I do. It's just life, you know? 
> 
> Alright, now that that's done, here's the next chapter. Which I'm actually really nervous about. Why? Because there is a sexual assault scene. (THIS IS YOUR WARNING!!) If you do not wish to read it, feel free to skip it. It is at the end, so I don't think you'd be missing much. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

The Name of the Game

Part 4

Pulling up to Seven Tower, Butcher parks the car and shuts the engine off, turning to face the lad sitting beside him. “All right, give us your phone.” Hughie turns to him with a questioning look. And after a moment of silence and Butcher’s unwavering gaze, he fishes the device out of his pocket and places it in Butcher’s waiting hand. 

“There’s fuck-all security to worry about” Butcher says. “In fact, they’re a bunch of muppets. And the metal detector won’t pick this up. Right?” He holds up a small black circular device, placing it inside the phone after opening it, his words never faltering. “And what they’ll probably do is take you through the security and then up into the boardroom. Sit down. Be nice, congenial. Then, real polite-like, tell ‘em you’re gonna take a fake shit. Go into the bog, take the bug out. Peel back the plastic bit to reveal the sticky side. Put the plastic bit in the bog. Flush it. Then go back into the boardroom, sit down, big smiles, plant the bug underneath the table. Easy peasy japaneasy. Bob’s your uncle. That’s that.” He holds the phone out for Hughie to take and all Hughie does is stare back at him with a bewildered look.

“That’s that?” Hughie huffs, “That was a lot. Th—I’ve—hold on, can you just repeat it again? Just a little bit slower? Because I—"

“Shh,” Butcher interjects, “Listen.”

“Fuck” Hughie exhales breathily, dropping his head forward.

“Hughie, calm down, all right” Butcher goes on, “This is like that scene in the Matrix. Now, you could take the fucking red pill, right? Spend the rest of your life jacking off,” he makes the dirty motion with his hand, “Crying into your chai tea green latte, what the fuck. Or you could take the blue pill.” He pauses shortly, his eyes drifting to the side in thought, “Or is it the red pill? Anyway, take the other pill and quit being a cunt.”

“Which pill do you want me to take?”

“Just quit being a cunt. That’s what I’m saying” Butcher remarks in an assertive tone. Again, Hughie drops his head forward with a huff. Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._

Feeling his anxiety, Artesian reaches over the bench seat to settle a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze to comfort him. He takes a deep breath and gives a small nod. “Fuck me. Okay.” With a shaky hand, he takes the phone from Butcher, unbuckles the seatbelt, and climbs out of the car. He only gets a few paces in before he comes to a stop. And there he stands, frozen like a statue with his hands buried into the pockets of his jacket, staring up at Seven Tower with beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. 

His heart is racing and beating hard against his chest and his stomach is in knots. To make matters worse, he can feel Butcher staring a hole through him with those piercing eyes of his. But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t get his legs to move, because _what the fuck_ is he doing here?

“He ain’t movin’” Butcher sighs, looking away from Hughie and peering into the rearview mirror. “He ain’t movin’, sunshine.”

“Geez, relax” Artesian replies, eyes on Hughie. “He’s just scared.”

“Best get to work then, eh?”

Her sigh is deep and weary. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Good girl” Butcher says.

“Fuck you” she responds with a glare, flipping him the bird. She then throws the car door open and steps out, slamming the door shut as he chuckles. Fucking… ass… ugh, whatever.

She moves to stand next to Hughie who acknowledges her, turning away from the massive building to face her with an exhale. “What are we doing here, Art?” His voice is low and precarious. “What am _I_ doing here?” He shakes his head. “This is—this is stupid. This—this isn’t me. I can’t do this. We should just go. I—”

“Hey…” she says, reaching up to cup the sides of his face, looking into his eyes. “Shut the fuck up and breathe. Just take a deep breath.” She inhales deeply and he follows her lead, the two exhaling slowly simultaneously.

“Art—”

“Stop,” she cuts in as she settles a finger on his lips. “Get out of your head. Stop thinking so much, and just listen.” He nods and she continues. “This is your chance, okay? You want to get A-Train, then you’re going to have to march into that boardroom and you’re going to have to plant that bug. In and out. Just like Butcher said. Alright? You got this.”

He swallows the lump in his throat. “What if I make a mistake and mess it all up?”

“You won’t.”

He pulls her close, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m scared, Art.” Her fingers tangle into his hair as her hand cradles the back of his neck. “I know you are. But it’ll be okay.”

The two close their eyes, their bond opening. Hughie shivers from a warmth as he feels her essence flow into him, rushing through him in a potent and formidable swell. It is like a rush, a surge. And it is comforting and familiar. He can feel his nerves, his panic, his fear, and his distress start to ease from his body. “You can do this” Artesian says. “I know you can. And when you come out, you can buy me a burger.”

Hughie opens his eyes and stares down at her with a furrowed brow. “Why is it always me buying?”

“Because you’re my brother and you love me. Besides, you’re the one with the job and steady income.”

“Oh! Well, when you put it that way…” he gives a short soft chuckle, sighing afterwards as he breaks apart from her, stepping back to gaze up at the building. “Well… here goes nothing.” Taking a breath, he saunters forward, swallowing the lump in his throat. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This is crazy. This is fucking crazy.

When he reaches the entrance to the building, he looks at his reflection on the glass of the door. Is he really going to do this?

_“You don’t have the fight. You never have.”_

_“Fuckin’ grow a pair.”_

_“Quit being a cunt.”_

“You got this. Go.”

He turns back to look at Artesian who is now standing behind him. “Go” she says, giving a firm nod.

“Okay.” He takes a deep breath, grips the door handle, then walks inside. He is doing this. Yep.

Artesian heaves a heavy sigh, disappearing in a blur only to reappear beside Butcher in the passenger seat who turns in reaction, his heart jumping. Fucking hell! Christ… 

He clears his throat. “Everythin’ alright?”

“Yeah” she responds tersely, “Everything’s great.”

“What ya do to ‘im?”

“Nothing. I just gave him a little push. Wasn’t that what you wanted?”

“It was.”

“Okay then.” She grunts softly as she settles into the seat, sinking back and leisurely resting her elbow on the armrest of the window.

She gazes out at the passing world, unaware that Butcher is staring at her until she turns his way when she gets the sense of being watched. And now she is looking at him. So, he continues to look at her. And they sit in silence, staring at one another.

The silence is not unpleasant or uncomfortable. The silence is just… silence. Nothing else. And it lasts for a few minutes, until Artesian breaks first, voicing the question on her mind. “What’s going to happen to us? After this is over.”

Butcher blinks and quirks a brow at the sudden question. “Us?” He shakes his head. “There ain’t no us, sunshine.” She gives him a pointed look. “I meant my brother and I.”

Ah. He clears his throat and leans back into the seat, grunting softly. “Well, once he gets done and sets foot out of that building, that’s it. I take it from there and we go our separate ways.”

“What if Hughie wants to do more?”

Butcher feels a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “Sorry, sunshine. I don’t normally pick up strays.”

“He’s pretty much a genius with technology.”

Was he now? The Brit contemplates this. Hm. A tech savvy lad on the team.

“And how about a supe?”

He rears back, a clear indication that that was the last thing he expected her to say. A supe? On the team?

He laughs. It is short and carries hints of bitterness and amusement in it. “I’d rather take a shit in my hands and clap, than work with a fuckin’ supe.”

Artesian deadpans. Well… that was… graphic. She clears her throat. “That’s too bad. Hughie won’t join your little crusade against supes otherwise.”

“That so?”

“Yes.”

“What makes ya so sure?”

She leans in close, her eyes locked on his handsome face. “Because he’s my twin. We share a soul. Ever since we came to be in our mother’s womb, we have been together. We have done everything together. It’s him and I. Always has been, always will be.” She sits back into the seat and again a silence falls between them with the two staring at one another.

After a moment, Butcher clicks his tongue and speaks. “Ya realize, sunshine, that in joining me, you’d be turnin’ your back on your own kind. Is that somethin’ you’re willing ta do?” His lips rise in a crooked grin, as if challenging her. She responds with a smirk, giving a short laugh. “Do you really think I give a fuck about my kind?”

His grin dissipates and he sits there, contemplating the truth in her words. A supe willing to betray her kind. For a human, no less. Hm. His eyes search her face, seeing no indication that she is lying. Hell, there even appears to be a trace of determination in her eyes.

“Look,” she says after a moment, taking a breath, “I know you hate me and think I’m a monster just because I’m a supe, but if you could look past that, you’ll find that you and I aren’t so different.” He huffs out a dry laugh at this. “That a fact?”

She hums. “You’re killing supes is not that different from my killing rapists. I bet you even feel a sense of righteousness when you kill a supe, don’t you?” She pauses to search his face which betrays nothing. But there is something in his eyes, something that tells her he knows what she is talking about.

“Yeah,” she nods, “I know the feeling well. Feels good, doesn’t it? Like having a cigarette after a good hard fuck. Or a bourbon after a long shitty day.” An expression of reminisce comes over her face, then it is gone, and she goes on. “It’s like a high. It draws you in…” she breaks off, a smile on her lips, “Makes you feel alive…” she exhales softly. “And before you know it, you find that you can’t get enough of it and it’s what starts to drive you because somewhere deep down inside you, you know that you don’t have to think about your own life as long as you’re doing this.”

Butcher sits there, staring at her with a straight face. But his eyes, something has changed in them. There is a warmth. A softness. He is looking at her with this… mildness. A sort of… kindness. And… it is different. A little unorthodox… at least for someone as coarse and brooding and cantankerous as he is.

She looks away from him in sudden when a sharp prick jolts through her, her hand shooting to her chest as she falls back into the seat with a sharp inhale.

“Sunshine?” Butcher’s brows furrow with concern.

“It’s Hughie—” she hisses, squeezing her eyes shut. “He’s—” she groans from another prick, her breathing becoming heavy. It is then that Butcher reacts, reaching for her. His large hand grasps her chin and tilts her head up, so she is looking at him. Or would be if her eyes were not shut.

“Oi. Look at me,” he says, “Look at me, Artesian.” He waits for her to open her eyes and when she does, his own lock onto hers. “Breathe, luv.”

She nods and takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly; repeating the process a few times. “Good” he says, “Good. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Hughie… he’s… he’s panicking…” she replies, breathless, “I can see A-Train… fuck…”

“All right, listen sunshine,” Butcher pulls her in close. “You gotta get ‘im to calm down, yeah?”

“Y—yeah, but… I’m going to need you to let go.”

Oh. Butcher releases his hold on her and watches as she sits back into the seat.

She takes another breath and closes her eyes, her forehead wrinkling in concentration. It is only seconds until she can feel her brother’s rapid heartbeat and see A-Train as if he were standing right in front of her. His mouth is moving but all she can hear is his mocking laugh and that sends another twinge of pain through her chest. She grits her teeth to force down the groan. “Hughie…”

He hears her, her voice crystal clear in his mind. “Art…” he exhales, his voice shaky and pained.

“I’m here. I’m right here.”

“Art…”

“You gotta calm down.”

“I can’t…”

“Well you’re gonna have to. You’re killing me here.”

“It—It’s A-Train…”

“I know. I know. But just look at his stupid fucking face and imagine how good it’s going to feel when we finally get him. So just calm down and plant that bug.”

“Okay” he says, almost breathless.

She feels him take several deep breaths and after a moment his panic is gone. “Okay” she repeats, releasing a weary breath as she breaks off the connection.

Her body slumps forward in exhaustion, her head resting in between her knees as her hands cradle her aching pounding head.

“Sunshine?” Butcher calls after a moment.

She inhales through her nose, breathing out evenly, and sits up to sink back into the seat. “I’m okay… he’s okay… it’s okay.” She sniffs, her head falling back against the head restraint of the seat with an exhale, staring out of the window for a minute before disappearing, only to reappear just outside the car where she leans against the passenger door with a sigh, her arms folding over chest.

The sounds of a door opening and closing fills her ears, followed by heavy footsteps on the pavement. Butcher is soon at her side, leaning against the car with his hands in his pockets. “What’s on your mind, sunshine?”

“Nothing” she replies all too quickly. “It’s just…” she takes a short breath. “Bringing Hughie down from his panic attacks… after so many times… it takes a toll…”

Butcher sniffs and kicks at a pebble. “Sounds exhaustin’.”

“You have no idea” she huffs, turning to look at him to find that he is already looking at her. Again, the two just stare at each other. It is deep and after a few moments, grows intense until she feels a sudden wave of emotion and staggers back.

Butcher is quick to steady her, his hand gripping her arm. “Easy there.”

“Sorry, it’s just… Hughie.”

“He havin’ another panic attack?”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s… the opposite actually. There’s… a total shift in his mood. His… anxiety is gone and he’s not afraid anymore. He’s… excited.” She blinks. “I think he did it.” The faintest smile curls Butcher’s lips. “Knew he could do it if he’d quit bein’ a cunt and grow a fuckin’ pair.”

=====

“And I look him right in the eyes, and I smile.” Hughie is vigorous, grinning like a mad man and chatting up a storm. “And that was awesome, just getting to stare that asshole down. I get why you dig this job.”

“Yeah, you know, it has its moments, doesn’t it?” Butcher says with a smile. A small one, but one no less.

“You were right.” Hughie goes on, unaware that the car has stopped. “Fuck A-Train.” He pauses shortly before saying with more fervor, “Fuck A-Train. Fuck—Fuck the Seven. Fuck all Seven.” He laughs, which turns into an awkward chuckle when he looks out through the window to see that they are parked outside of his store.

His smile drops in an instant, his enthusiasm all but gone. “What are, uh,” he stammers, turning to look at Butcher, “What are we doing here?” 

“Well, you go to go to work, don’t you?”

“Y—yeah,” Hughie stutters, “But, um, I don’t, uh…” he shakes his head, confused, and stares at the Brit who keeps a straight face. I mean, come on, what the fuck? Is that it? Is it over? Just like that?

“Well,” Butcher starts in a casual tone. A little casual for Hughie’s liking. “I mean, that’s all I need you for right now, yeah?” He can see the disappointment come over the lad’s face.

“Yeah,” Hughie tries again, “I mean, but I… I can, I can help with other stuff, you know? I could, I could be, like your tech guy. You know? Like, I could be in the van with thing and, like, you know,” he motions an earpiece and microphone with his hand, “He’s down the hall to the left’. Like I can—and Artesian—” He points to the backseat where she sleeps soundly. “She can, she can be like, your calvary, you know? Like your back up for when shit gets heavy. You just call out her name and she’ll teleport you out—”

Butcher offers a small ungainly grin. “Yeah, look, son, I, uh, I think it’s best that I take it from here. You know what I mean?”

Hughie’s frown only deepens, looking like a child finding out there is no Santa Claus. “Yeah, but I—I can—I can really help.” Again, he points to the backseat. “We can really help.”

“I know you can help.” Butcher nods. “I got it.”

“Is—is this because of Art? You know, her being a supe and all… ‘cuz I get it. I mean, I can see how working with a supe would be contradictive. But if you think about it, it could be really beneficial—” 

“It ain’t that, son” Butcher says. “It’s just like I said, I got it.”

Hughie stares at him, picking up on the firm tone of Butcher’s voice and the robust expression on his face. He was not going to win this, was he? They were done. And there wasn’t anything he could do or say to change Butcher’s mind, was there? Fuck. Well…

“Okay.” Unbuckling his seatbelt, he turns and leans over the bench seat to reach into the backseat, giving his sister’s leg a good hard pat. “Hey, wake up.”

She stirs with a groan, her eyes opening for a split second before sliding shut, secreting a sigh from Hughie. “Come on, Art” he says while shaking her leg, “We got to go.”

“Fuck off…” she mumbles, shifting her body to face away from him. Hughie groans in frustration then climbs out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him before opening hers. “Let’s go, come on” he grunts as he reaches inside, grabbing hold of her arm and pulling her out, emitting an annoyed growl from her. “Oh, quit your growling” he remarks.

“Fuck you” she retorts in a groggy voice, bumping his shoulder as she walks past him. He sighs and shakes his head while he swings the door shut.

Butcher chuckles softly at the scene then turns his attention back to the car, turning on the engine.

“Oh, hey, wait,” Hughie calls out in sudden. When he sees Butcher looking his way, he holds up the check from Vought. “You ever see an asshole tear up $45k?” He rips the check in half with a smile then stuffs the pieces of paper into the pockets of his jacket, turning to enter the store.

“Hughie.”

Hughie spins back and Butcher nods. “You’re a good lad.” He beckons goodbye with a quick bob of the head then drives off into the darkness coating the city, leaving Hughie alone on the sidewalk. He sighs and pulls on the door to the shop, the bell above chiming loudly. 

“Hey kid” Gary greets from behind the counter, eyes on his phone. “Where you been all day? You’re late.”

“I, uh, I had a really important errand to run” Hughie replies, stopping before the man, “Where’s my sister?”

“In the back. You sound off. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, no. Everything’s—” Hughie takes a breath, “—everything’s fine.”

Gary looks up from his phone, brows creased and gaze scrutinizing as he stares at Hughie who swallows. “Okay, then.” He clears his throat and leaves for the stockroom, finding it empty. “Art?” he calls out, his eyes searching the room.

“Yeah.”

He turns at the sound of a toilet flushing. A door opens and Artesian steps out from the bathroom with a loud yawn, her arms raised above her head in a stretch. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing” he responds. “Just wanted to know if you were still here.”

“Oh.” She nods in understanding and yawns once more, reaching up to rub her tired eyes as she crosses the floor. “So,” she sighs, “What happened? Where’s Butcher?”

“Gone” Hughie says as he slips out of his jacket and opens his locker to switch out his shirt. “Said he didn’t need us anymore and dropped us off here.” He can feel her eyes on him, studying him and he just knows that she knows that he is upset. Their bond tells him so with a little pull in his chest.

“You okay?” she asks, and he sighs, his head shifting just enough to appear as a head shake. “I don’t know, to be honest…” he pauses and shrugs out of his t-shirt, slipping on the grey button up. “It’s just…” he exhales as he works on the buttons. “I finally got to do something cool. You know? Something—something that isn’t me. Something I would never do in a million years. Something that made me feel strong, like I could do anything, and—and now it’s just over?” He sighs. “Can’t help but feel a little bummed.”

Artesian frowns at the melancholic expression on his face, his lips pulled down in a frown of his own. “Hughie—”

“No, it’s alright. It is what it is.” He sighs again, deeply, then clicks his tongue as he looks at her. “What about you? Are you okay? You sort of just passed out after Seven Tower. Slept like the dead. Can’t say I blame you though. I haven’t exactly made it easy for you. You must be exhausted.” He shoots her a small apologetic look. She shrugs in nonchalance. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’m good. A little tired, but mostly just hungry. Like, fuck.” She places a hand on her rumbling stomach. “Want to get something to eat after closing?”

“Well I do still owe you that burger” Hughie answers as he unbuckles his belt to tuck his shirt into his pants.

“Oh yeah, that’s right. So, it’s settled then.”

Hughie chuckles as she leaves the stockroom where she joins Gary at the counter. “How are you, kiddo?” he asks, glancing up from his phone to look at her. She gives a weary sigh and leans against the counter, arms resting on the glass. “I’m good, thanks. And you?”

He offers a small smile. “I’m good too.”

She bobs her head. “Cool. Busy day today?”

“Not as busy as I would have liked” he answers, his attention suddenly drawn to Hughie as he returns to the shop.

Artesian follows his gaze, watching her brother cross the floor and sit beside Gary with a deep sigh, his shoulders sagging. She takes note that his face is still wearing the frown he wore in the stockroom and his lips are pressed together into a thin line. He looks so… dispirited.

“Why do you look so down, kid?” Gary queries. “Did something happen?”

All Hughie does is shrug, and Artesian knows that when he gets this way, nothing good comes out of his mouth. So, she takes it upon herself to reply for him. “He had a meeting with A-Train today.”

Hughie glances her way with wide eyes, stunned at her words. Gary does the same, wearing a similar expression.

A silence ensues for a moment until Artesian breaks it. “He apologized for what happened to Robin.” Her words seem to carry a lot of weight for another silence befalls. A heavy, palpable silence.

It takes a minute, but then Gary nods and gives Hughie a firm pat on the back. “Sorry again, kid. She was a good one, that girl. Damn shame what happened. She deserved better.” He shakes his head, grunting softly.

“Yeah…” Hughie responds absently, swallowing, “Thanks… Gary.” He clears his throat softly.

Gary claps his hand on Hughie’s shoulder a final time then stands from his chair with a soft groan, leaving for the stockroom. The moment the door shuts, Hughie reacts and is on his sister with a disapproving glare. “The fuck, Art? Why would you tell him that?”

“Should I have told him the truth of why you’re really sitting here pouting and sulking? That you’re sad because you didn’t get to do more espionage on Vought and its supes? At least mentioning Robin kept him from asking any more questions.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Hughie trails off as he realizes the truth in her words. Gary would have asked more questions if he had mentioned Butcher. And Butcher came off as a daunting and unnerving man. Dangerous, even. Like he wasn’t afraid to do what he had to in order to get what he wants or keep someone quiet. Who knows what his reaction would have been to his name being passed around or to have his undercover activities brought to light? Especially if he works for the FBI. “No, yeah… you’re—you’re right.”

“Course I am. And I forgive you” Artesian remarks with a grin, one that disappears when she sees the gloom on her brother’s face. She exhales through her nose. “You really did enjoy the spy work, didn’t you?” He nods. “I know it’s crazy, but it was the most excitement I’ve felt in… well, ever.” He turns to her. “If that makes sense.”

“Yeah, no, I—I get it. That first taste of adrenaline can be a real rush. And hey, maybe Butcher will need you again someday. Considering that I told him that you’re basically a tech genius. He seemed interested in that.”

Hughie perks up at this and he gazes upon his sister with a glint of hope in his eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah, but don’t get your hopes up and start planning any heists or anything.”

He chuckles at that, flashing a small smile. “Right. I won’t.”

“Alright, kids,” comes Gary’s voice as he steps back into the shop, taking a second to regard them while he slips his jacket on. “I’m off. Hughie, you’ll lock up?”

He nods. “Yeah. Thanks, Gary.”

“Great. Goodnight you two.”

“Night, Gary. Stay safe out there” Artesian bids as the older man leaves, turning back to Hughie only to find him walking away. She quirks a brow in curiosity. “And where are you going?”

“Nature calls. You can lock up.”

She tuts, “Uh, Gary told _you_ to do it. And I don’t work here, remember?”

“Thanks sis, I love you.”

“Ooh—you son of a—that’s not gonna work forever, you know!” she calls out to him, eyes narrowed in a glare, as he steps into the stockroom.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Jerk” she mutters. Fine. She will lock up. But, oh, is he going to get her that damn burger. And she is throwing in a milkshake and chili-cheese fries just for good measure. Hell, maybe she will go for a deep-dish pizza. Or a meatball sub. Whichever is pricier.

The bell atop the entrance door rings loudly, indicating an incoming customer. And just before closing time. Great.

Rolling her eyes, Artesian exhales a soft, “fuck me.” Just, ugh… Fucking hell. Why do people think it okay to come in just before closing shop? Why? Why?

Well, whatever. Best get to work.

She turns toward the door with a sigh. “Sorry, we’re just…” she trails off, growing confused when she sees that no one has come in. “…closing up…”

Okay…

She searches the store, her head moving in all directions, eyes scanning every corner. But there is no one. Nothing is out of the ordinary. Nothing is out of place. So then, why are the hairs on her arms suddenly standing on end? Why can’t she shake off the feeling that something was not right? Why is her heart beating fast and her breathing quickening? Why does something feel… off? For all she knew, the wind could have blown the door open. Had it been windy today?

She gasps in sudden, her frightened scream cut short when what feels like a hand wraps around her throat in a possessive grasp.

“Who are you?”

The voice is deep and grating and one she recognizes instantly, leaving her paralyzed in fear. “T—Translucent…” she whimpers in a wavering voice, gasping as she is forced up against the counter, the edge digging into her lower back painfully.

He holds up the bug Hughie planted. “You think I wouldn’t find this thing?” He tightens his grip around her throat in a relentless squeeze, forcing a gag out of her as tears brim her eyes. “You bitch, I followed you from the fucking tower. Who were the two guys in the car with you? Huh?” He wrenches her sharply, roughly jerking her neck to the side. “Answer me!”

“I—I don’t know!” she cries out, her brimming tears now spilling down in streams and coating her cheeks. She is trembling, shaking like a leaf. He can even see that the color from her face has drained and that her eyes carry pure unadulterated fear. It is a sight he finds himself relishing.

“W—what do you want?” she huffs. Fuck, her throat was on fire. 

He pulls her in close, smirking. “I want you to fucking tell me what I want to know.” She feels his free hand snake its way to the back of her head, gripping onto her braid. “And you’re gonna tell me, one way or another.” He slams her face first onto the counter with a loud sickening crack.

She grunts upon impact, stars dancing across her vision as blood fills her mouth, her tongue burning. But she gets no chance to recover for he jerks her head back sharply. “I’m gonna ask you again.” There is menace in his words. “Who were the two fuckers in the car?”

“I—I told you…” she pants, “I don’t—I don’t know—” she groans loudly from a blow to the stomach, her body arching forward before she drops to her hands and knees, wheezing and coughing.

He stands over her and gives a short laugh. “I’ve dealt with stubborn bitches like you before.” She can hear the sneer in his voice. “You’re all the same. Just need a good kicking!” He brings his foot with full force to her stomach, and while she is on her back gasping for air, he grabs hold of the top of her head, her brown hair tangled between his blunt fingers, and he yanks her to her feet, emanating a yelp of pain from her.

“Fuck!” Hughie groans.

He is on his hand and knees, clasping at his chest and panting heavily from the pain. It is… razor-sharp and miserable… and it is shooting through him like an electric shock, a shock that will not give.

It had started as a sharp prick through his chest, just a pinch, a puncture, a jab, but now… it is simmering, hot and cruel and excruciating. And it has crippled him. Left him breathless. Agonizing on the floor.

“Art…” he moans through gritted teeth, eyes shut tight and body intermittingly shaking. Her heart. Fucking… fuck… her heart. It is… contracting painfully. Beating so fast… so, so fast and so hard. It hurts. It fucking hurts. Fuck! And what feels like anguished terror permeates her. A fear so strong, it is… bestial. And dark. And debilitating.

A deep sigh, shaky around the edge hisses through his lips as he forces his head up after much strain. He stares at the door that rests just a few feet away, his breathing heavy. What the fuck is happening out there that could cause this much pain? This much suffering?

Artesian grunts when Translucent slams her up against the counter again and makes a strangled noise when his hand wraps around her neck in another crushing grip. “Listen here sweetheart,” his voice is dark and threatening, “You can tell me what I want to know now, or you can tell me after I’m done with you. It’s your choice. Although, I’m hoping it’s the latter.”

She whimpers, her body shuddering, when she feels his hand trail down her body, cringing when it slides over her breast and down her stomach. “What’s it gonna be?” he taunts. And she knows he has that same stupid sneer on his face. She can feel it, picture it clearly even though she can’t see him.

She feels a surge of anger at the thought of that fucking smirk, but then it is suddenly gone when his long fingers travel down into her shorts. And a choked gasp escapes her when a single digit slips inside her, her stomach churning in nausea and disgust.

“Last chance, sweetheart.” His breath is hot on her skin.

She squirms and tries to pull away from him, but his iron grip keeps her in place, the hand around her throat tightening. “No?” he chuckles in a low and dark manner. “Have it your way then.”

He lifts her up effortlessly with a low growl and slams her down onto the counter with excessive force, drawing out a pained cry from her upon impact. His chuckle turns into an impish laugh when she turns over and drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Then he climbs on top of her, both hands wrapping around her neck this time, wringing tight.

Her grunts are strangled as she struggles beneath him, squirming and wriggling in desperation, her knee sliding up in a crushing blow between the invisible man’s legs, who bellows in anguish and topples over. And now that she can breathe again, she gasps loudly, sucking in a deep breath, the air sharp against her lungs. She coughs from the ache and wheezes.

“Oh, you bitch!” Translucent growls through clenched teeth. He is on her again in seconds, grabbing strands of hair from the top of her head, pulling her up to her feet where he drags her to the counter. She grunts when her face meets glass a second time, the impact forcing her down to her hands and knees once more.

She chokes when his hand wraps around her throat and sputters when he lifts her up, bringing her close. “You fucking little bitch.”

Her eyes bulge when he wrings her throat ruthlessly, pressing harder and harder. The world around her starts to flicker and blur, a terrible fear settling when she realizes that this is it. This is how she will die. In the hands of this fuck…

The light starts to darken. And that is when she feels it. A surge of strength. Shooting through her every limb and nerve, driving her to swing out her leg. So, she does, and he screams when her knee connects between his legs yet again. Then he tosses her into the wall where she drops behind the counter, crashing down onto the chairs.

She coughs, a pained gasp leaving her lips. Oh… Jesus… fuck… the pain. The fucking agony. “You fucking bitch!” Translucent spits out, lifting the chairs off her and chucking them aside. “I’m gonna fucking show you!”

She tries to sit up, but a kick to the face has her on her back with a groan, the world spinning.

He climbs on top of her and in one fluid motion, he tears her top in half. Next comes the bra, which rips easily, exposing her to him. When he grips her legs and forces them apart, that is when the panic really seeps in, her eyes widening in horror. “No!”

She tries a second time to sit up, gagging when her throat is caught once more. “Relax, it’ll be over before you know it” he says, backhanding her across the face with sheer brutal power. She drops back, panting harshly.

“Art!”

Translucent looks up at the call, hindering his actions. 

“Art… are you o—argh—are you okay?!” The voice is strained yet frantic. “W—what’s happening?!”

Artesian opens her mouth to reply, but Translucent is quick to silence her, his large hand settling over her mouth. “Who’s that, huh? That the gangly little prick I saw with you earlier?” He chuckles at her soft broken whimper. “We’ll finish this after I deal with him.” He gives her face a squeeze. “Don’t go anywhere.”

His hands are suddenly gone, and she curls up on her side, shaking and sniveling.

There is a loud thump and Hughie stumbles into the store, dropping to his knees, panting heavily with his hand still clutching his chest. “Fuck…” he grunts, his face contorted in pain. Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck?

He lifts his head up at a small weak groan, gasping in dismay. “Oh my god, Art!” He pushes himself up to his feet, groaning from the agony coursing through him, and rushes to her side only to drop to his knees breathless.

It is instantaneous, the blended emotional disarray of despair and pain, of revulsion and anguish. It all courses through him in seconds as he gapes down at her, eyes wide in shock and horror. Fuck… fuck… fuck… Her bloodstained face… the red marks on her neck… her exposed state… oh god… What the fuck?!

He reaches for her with unsteady hands, with intent to pull her into his arms, but her sharp, “Don’t!”, stops him from doing so and a strand of tears spill from his eyes, staining his cheeks. “W—what happened?” His exhale is poignant, his voice cracking. “Who—who did this to you?”

“Run—” her voice is small and choked, catching in her throat.

Hughie shakes his head, brows furrowed, and leans in close. “What?”

“Translucent—” she tries again, wheezing, “Run…” 

His eyes widen at her words and he shoots to his feet with a soft gasp, frantically glancing around the store in search for the super-abled man. But there is nothing. There is no one. It is only when his lanyard is grabbed and pulled taut that he reacts, stiffening in fear and breathing quickening.

“Hughie” Translucent reads with an angry tone, yanking hard on the line around Hughie’s neck who grunts aloud when his face hits the glass on the already broken counter. He is then dragged over the stand and dropped onto the floor. He gasps when he feels hands on his body, gripping and lifting him up into the air. “No, no, no!” he exclaims as he feels himself being thrown across the room.

His back takes impact when he collides with the large window, the force knocking the air from his lungs. The thud that sounds when he drops to the floor is heavy, and a wheezing cough escapes him.

“Maybe you’ll tell me what that little bitch wouldn’t.” Translucent’s voice is thick with malice. “Who’s that guy you were with, in the car?”

Hughie sits up, eyes in search for the supe, following the sound of his voice in attempts to pinpoint his location, but all he sees is empty air.

“Who was he? He put you up to this?”

What the hell was he talking about? Hughie shakes his head, breathing staggered and heavy. “I don’t—I don’t know! He was just some uber driver, okay?”

“Don’t give me some bullshit! Uber driver!” Translucent exclaims angrily as he crosses the room and rips out a television from the wall, raising it over his head. “Do you think I’m a fucking idiot? Why’d you plant the bug?”

Bug? He found it. Fuck.

Hughie starts to panic, his heart racing and beating ruthlessly against his chest, when he realizes what Translucent plans to do with the television. “Please, please, please. No, please.”

“We’re the Seven, earth’s most mighty, champions of the innocent, motherfucker!”

Oh, fuck! No!

The crash of the black Cadillac driving through the panel of glass is deafening as is the sound of the impact when it hits the invisible man. Hughie recoils in reaction, eyes bulging as he witnesses the television drop and several shelves of merchandise break apart, marking the trip Translucent was taking until he hits the wall at the far end of the store.

Oh, fuck… holy fuck… what the shit?

“Sorry about the mess.”

Slowly, Hughie turns his head to see Butcher stepping out of the car. Butcher?

The Brit throws a quick glance Hughie’s way, taking in the bleeding headwound and disheveled state. “You should fuck off, Hughie” he says, swinging the car door shut. He then gives the crowbar in his hand a quick spin and saunters forward. “Hughie, run!”

Right. Run.

Pushing himself up from the floor, Hughie jumps over the counter where Artesian lay. His hands are shaking like crazy, he realizes, when he reaches for her and cups her face. “Art…” Her eyes are closed, and she shows no signs of having heard him. “Art, hey…” he claps her cheek with a little force. “Art, wake up.”

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. He jumps when Butcher suddenly lands in front of him with a pained grunt. And watches as he shakes his head, looking down in his direction with furrowed brows. “Didn’t I tell ya ta fuck off?” he says after realizing that Hughie was still there.

“Y—yeah.”

“So, fuck off!”

Hughie nods and moves, leaning forward to grab hold of Artesian’s wrists while Butcher shuffles to his feet and saunters off in search for the invisible wanker.

Using the strength in his legs, Hughie hefts his sister up a little and with a grunt of exertion, proceeds to shuffle backwards, dragging her into the stockroom. “Fuck, Art…” he pants, “You’re heavy…”

When he reaches the center of the room, he stops to drop to his knees and pull her into his arms, cradling her close to his aching chest. “Art?”

He looks down at her, his throat tightening. Fuck, she’s so still. “Art, come on. Wake up.” He shakes her, tears brimming his eyes as she remains unresponsive. “Art, please…” he sniffles and leans forward, pressing his forehead against hers. “Don’t do this to me, sis. I can’t do it without you.”

She shoots upright in sudden with a deep and frenetic gasp, startling Hughie back. “Shit!”

He exhales sharply, eyes wide in surprise. And then he laughs in relief, moving to pull her into a hug but she flinches away from him in fear, her hand shooting out and sending him across the room. He hits the floor with a groan then sits up to gaze upon her with shock and confusion, but a loud crash and a pained grunt has him turning. That sounded like Butcher.

Oh fuck. Butcher. Getting up with a grunt, Hughie moves toward Artesian but stops when she scrambles back in a frenzy, pressing herself against the wall and curling up into a ball, hugging her legs to her chest. He looks at her with sadness in his eyes, pain reflecting in his voice. “Art…”

Another pained groan echoes into the room. Shit. Butcher. Fuck.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Hughie speaks in a soft and shaky voice. “Art, uh… I’m—I’m going to go help Butcher, okay? I’ll—I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he is gone, Artesian breaks into sobs, tears gushing down her face. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

She shakes her head and sniffles. Translucent. Fucking Translucent. He found her. He found her. Just like he said he would if she ever told anyone. But she never did. She never did.

Ugh. God. His hands are still on her. She can feel them. She can feel them groping and grabbing. She shudders, her body trembling as her skin crawls. Fuck. Why didn’t she fight back? Why the fuck did she freeze up? How could she let it go as far as it did?

She sniffles and shakes her head. It’s her fault. She should not have frozen up the way she did. She should have fought back. Fought harder. But… the minute she heard his voice… ugh.

She jumps at a loud and frightened scream. And then there is a prolonged silence, until a voice speaks. “Is he, is he dead? Is he…?”

She knows that voice. It… that sounded like Hughie. Hughie… Hughie. Her eyes go wide. Oh god… Hughie! She used her power on Hughie! How could she do that to her own brother? Her other half? What kind of fucking monster was she?

“Well he ain’t movin’.”

Butcher? Was that Butcher?

“Oh fuck. Oh shit.”

The voice is alarmed, scared. That’s definitely Hughie. 

“How’d you know the electric could do the job?”

“S—skin’s carbon” Hughie stammers, panting heavily. “Highly conductive… Saw it on, uh, Jimmy Fallon.”

Were they talking about Translucent?

“Would’ve taken me forever to work that one out. Good job. Let’s get him in the boot.”

“Wait, wait, what? Wait, what? What?”

“The trunk.”

“No, no, I mean, what are we, what are we, what are we doing with him?”

“Well, Hughie, you just offed one of the Seven, mate.”

Wait, what? Translucent is… dead? No. Artesian shakes her head in disbelief. No. It couldn’t be true. Translucent does not hurt easy. His skin is impenetrable. No. no. They’re lying. Translucent is alive. He’s alive. She knows it. And he’s going to find her and he’s going to finish the job. She knows he is. She knows because she knows him. She knows what he is capable of. She knows he was not one to leave things unfinished.

Hughie is shouting now. His voice is high, like that of a hysterical woman. “What?! Then who the fuck are you?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's the end of the first episode. Any thoughts? Questions? Concerns? 
> 
> Okay, so next chapter is the start for Cherry. I don't know when it will be posted, since I have yet to write it out. I did start it though, so progress. Yay~ 
> 
> I also want to make a few changes to the third chapter, so there's also that. 
> 
> As for the sexual assault scene, if it upset you, I'm sorry. That is the last thing I wanted to do. So, if you feel the need to lash out at me, you're welcome to do so. I completely understand. If you simply wish to talk with me, I'd be more than happy to do so. 
> 
> On another note, if you have been a victim of any type of assault, just know you're not alone and I support you and wish you well. And please get help. There is light at the end of the tunnel. 
> 
> Until next time~


	5. Just An Author's Note

GUYS!! I AM SO SO SORRY!! 

I know I haven't updated in months, but I've just been too busy. After I posted the last chapter, my dad had a really bad seizure (he died twice, actually) and now he's pretty sick. So I've been working as his care provider full time which means I haven't really had time to work on the story. On anything really. My mom had surgery as well, so the workload doubled and I'm just exhausted. I get so sleepy that I can't even think straight sometimes and I just knock out as soon as my head hits the pillow. Fortunately, my mom's gotten better so the workload will hopefully lessen and I can get more rest.

Man, I miss writing. I really do. I'm gonna try to get back into it, somehow. Anyhow, I just wanted to let you all know that I haven't abandoned the story and to thank you all for your continued support and patience.


	6. Cherry Part 1 Preview

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS!!   
> I just want to say a big thank you to all of you for understanding my situation and for your wonderful words and prayers! It means so much to me that I thought I'd share with you a little preview of what I had written for the beginning of Cherry before I had to stop. 
> 
> Keep in mind that it's a rough draft so things can still change. There's probably a lot of grammar mistakes and maybe some things won't even make sense. So just bare with me.

Cherry

Part 1

“Hughie, calm down mate.”

“C—calm down? Calm down? I can’t—How the fuck can I—I can’t—” He’s hyperventilating, panting hard and breathing quick. “I don’t—I don’t even—”

“You hear that?” Butcher says in a gruff voice. He stands in front of Hughie, over Translucent’s body, breathing heavily and pointing behind him as loud sirens sound. “That’s the old bill. So, unless you want to explain why you’ve got America’s favorite wanker dead on the floor, give us a fuckin’ hand, will ya?”

Hughie swallows thickly, his countenance distraught, and turns back toward the stockroom. “W—what about—what about my sister?”

He hears a grunt of exertion come from Butcher.

“We’ll check on her after we get this cunt in the trunk… oi!”

Hughie jumps at the shout and turns back to the scene before him, swallowing again as he tries to slow his breathing and collect himself and his thoughts. Translucent. Artesian. Butcher. Fucking hell. How did this even happen? Just… what the fuck? _Why?_

The sirens were louder now, practically deafening. That meant the cops weren’t far.

“Hughie!”

“Ah, shit” Hughie huffs out, moving fast to help Butcher. He grabs hold of Translucent’s feet while Butcher handles the top half. Together, they lift the body and carry it outside of the store, tossing it into the trunk of Butcher’s car.

As soon as Butcher slams the top closed, Hughie is running back into the store, frantically calling Artesian’s name. Butcher stays behind with thoughts of climbing into his car and driving off, but something tugs at him, a heavy feeling pooling in the pit of his stomach. It’s an ache. An ache that hasn’t reared its head in ages. The lad… Sunshine… Heaving a sigh, he follows Hughie.

He finds the boy standing at the door to the room where he assumes Sunshine is. He’s frozen solid with a face of pure agony. “Hughie?” He follows the lad’s gaze, his brows knitting together firmly when he glances into the room and sees her. “Oh, sunshine…” His face sinks in a frown.

She sits still as a fucking statue, her eyes wide and glassed over, looking as if trapped in a daze. The sight of her has his gut twisting in a strange way, a way that feels suspiciously like… sorrow? Sympathy?

Hughie reacts then, approaching with quick steps and settling in front of her in a kneel, reaching out a hand. She flinches, just… full out flinches away when he touches her, and he exhales sharply. “Art…” The hurt in his voice… “Art, it’s me!”

Shit. Butcher steps in then, pulling Hughie to his feet. “Come on, son” he says as he leads him away from Artesian, “Take is easy, now.”

Hughie heaves a sigh of exasperation. He’s shaking. Every nerve in his body is on fire as a nasty, sickly, gut-wrenching feeling twits and turns his stomach.

“Ya gotta take it easy, son.” Butcher’s tone is calm, and his voice is low and grounded.

“I’m sorry! I’m just…” emitting a half-growl, half-cry, Hughie wheezes, “I don’t know what to do! The police are gonna be here soon and we have to deal with Translucent! And Art’s—”

“Calm down.” Butcher settles his large hands atop Hughie’s shoulders, his grip firm. “Your hysterics aren’t helping your sister.”

“Well fuck me sideways, Butcher!” Hughie exclaims. His head turns to the side from a sudden slap to the face and he blinks at the Brit in shock. “The fuck?”

“Ya need to calm the fuck down. And we need to leave, now. I want ya to take these keys and get the car. Bring it ‘round back.”

“What—wait, what about—”

“Don’t worry ‘bout your sister, just do as I say.” He places the set of keys in Hughie’s trembling hand. “Go on then.”

Hughie glances down to the keys then nods. “Okay” he says. Then he turns and runs out, leaving Butcher alone to sigh and shake his head.

Okay. All right. Time to deal with… fuck… why didn’t he just leave when he had the chance?

Making sure his movements were slow and unthreatening, he approaches and crouches down in front of Artesian, clearing his throat. “Oi…” he calls out softly in attempt to gain her attention, but she doesn’t falter from her trembles and blank stare. “Sunshine” he tries again, his voice cautious as if he were addressing a skittish animal. “It’s time to come back now.”

He reaches out and grabs her chin to tilt her head up so that she’s looking at him, but she gasps and sharply pulls away from him, her breathing quickening. He tries again, his hands cupping her cheeks to still her. “Easy, luv. It’s all right. It’s just ol’ Billy.” His voice is soft with a soothing touch. “Look at me.”

He waits for a few beats and eventually she looks his way, her head slowly turning towards him. Her eyes, welled up with tears, drag over his face. “Butcher?”

“That’s right.”

She lunges in sudden, tackling him and wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face into his collarbone and shoulder and cries quiet, tormented tears. Butcher stiffens, his entire body going rigid, his shoulders tensing and breath catching in his throat. What… uh… what’s happening right now?

He frowns as an uneasy feeling creeps it way through him. Uh… this… this was… hmm. Tentatively, he tucks her head into the hollow under his chin, his hand supporting the back of her head whist he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “There, there, luv. It’ll be alright, yeah?”

Fucking hell. Now wasn’t the time for this… this… whatever the hell this was. Reassurance? Is that it? No. He doesn’t know how to give that anymore. And what the fuck is he even doing? She’s a fucking supe!

That’s why his mind is screaming at him. Telling him to push her away. To get her off him. But he doesn’t. Because… because something else, something deep inside is telling him otherwise. Fuck. His insides are feeling… strange… He should really put an end to this.

He clears his throat again, sitting back and removing his arms from around her in the process. “We should get a move on, sunshine. Feds will be on us any minute.”

The back door to the shop sails open, and in runs Hughie, out of breath. “Okay, Butcher, the car’s—” his words die out once he sets eyes on Artesian and sees that she came back. “Art…” He moves toward her, but Butcher is quick to step in his way. “Sorry, son, but now ain’t the time. I’ll get her to the car; you find her a change of clothes. You got any?”

Hughie takes a second to think, then nods. “Y—yeah… in my locker.”

“Get ‘em, then” Butcher says. He then takes his large coat off and drapes it over Artesian’s shoulders. “Come on, sunshine. Let’s go.” She takes his outstretched hand, and he pulls her up to her feet just as Hughie rummages through the large steel cabinet, grabbing his messenger bag and red t-shirt.

Once outside, Butcher sees that the car had been left running with the doors open and he can’t help the smile at Hughie’s quick thinking. He slides into the driver’s seat and swivels back to see Hughie helping Artesian into the car. Then the lad shuts the door and runs to the passenger side, the car driving as soon as he slipped inside. In the rearview, Butcher can see two patrol cars arrive at the store. Well, that was fucking close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it wasn't very long, but I'm gonna keep working at it. Somehow. Anyway, what do you guys think of it so far? Should I keep it the way it is or should I just start from scratch? I think Butcher might be too out of character, but again, I'm always gonna think that's the case. I've got issues, I can't help it >_<


End file.
